Precipice
by Annie M1
Summary: Clark and Lois look to the future in this AU post “Arctic,” and beyond. Lex returns to Metropolis, after years out of the public spotlight; a hero goes missing. - Contains: Adventure, suspense, romance, friendship, and a little hurt/comfort. It's all here
1. Chapter 1

Title: **P****recipice**

Author: Annie M

Series: Smallville

Rating: M

Codes: Lois, Clark, Lex, Oliver Queen, and others

Part: Multiple

Date: 3rd August 2008

**Summary:** Clark and Lois look to the future in this AU take on the events post "Arctic," and beyond. Lex Luthor returns to Metropolis, after years out of the public spotlight, and a hero goes missing.

**Notes:** Incorporated into this story are the odd (minor) spoiler snippets for season 8, which I have twisted for my own purposes.

Special thanks go to my excellent beta reader for this story, sarawolfe.

As I'm English all spellings used here are British.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. No infringement intended to DC or Warner Bros etc.

(c) Annie M, 3rd August 2008.

**Precipice by Annie M  
**

**Chapter One  
**

Circling the ruins of Kal-El's fortress from the air J'onn J'onzz, former Manhunter from Mars scanned the surface debris. Sensing life beneath the shattered tons of crystal and ice he dove towards the ground, tunnelling under and through the fortress' remains by using his own version of Kal-El's heat-vision.

J'onn knew he should have been keeping a closer watch on Kal-El, especially since the incident with the Phantom and Kara Zor-El's sudden appearance all those months ago. Instead of following those instincts, he'd left, foolishly allowing Lionel Luthor, Jor-El's emissary and Kal-El's own stubborn independence to thwart his better judgement. And now Lionel Luthor was dead and Kara Zor-El, wherever she was, was beyond his ability to track and Kal-El …

He slipped his arms under the young Kryptonian's, and lifted the slack but not lifeless body up and away from the wrecked fortress.

"Go … back …" Kal-El's voice was weak, but J'onn understood the request perfectly.

J'onn flew clear of the fortress before setting Kal-El's injured body down on the snow packed ground. "We can't go back," J'onn explained, taking in Kal-El's barely conscious state. "It's not safe for us here right now. I need to get you to safety."

"Lex … Lex… is back there … help him," Kal-El urged through every constricted breath.

"No. He tried to kill you, I can feel it," J'onn seethed.

His ability as a galactic Manhunter was forged not just on his physical agility and strength, or even his ability to alter his physical appearance, but also on his telepathic capabilities.

J'onn was able to read the mind of almost any being with no difficulties, and given a few seconds to concentrate he could read their subconscious minds as well. And J'onn had read the hatred and twisted anguish in Lex Luthor's thoughts. Lex didn't just want Kal-El dead; he wanted him to suffer.

"Doesn't matter," Kal-El whispered between each ragged breath. "We can't … just leave him … to die!"

J'onn shook his head, "He's a danger to you, Kal-El."

"Please."

J'onn hesitated for several moments inwardly debating the influence of Kal-El's human upbringing and the values instilled in him by the Kent's. The compassion he could show, even now, for a man J'onn knew would remain a danger to Kal-El for as long as they both lived. He shook his head sadly; sometimes he missed the brutal simplicity of a planet like Krypton's idea of justice; where an expedient end could justify the means.

But in remembering Kryptonian justice he also recalled that not all the great Houses of Krypton were in favour of such notions of justice, the House of El among them. Nor could J'onn escape the promise he'd made to Kal-El's father, Jor-El, years before, to: _"Protect the boy and respect the man he will become." _

Despite his many misgivings J'onn would never break a promise to such an old comrade, even if it went against his own principles.

Squeezing Kal-El's hand in assurance J'onn re-affirmed his promise to an old friend. "All right."

**-8-  
**

Jimmy Olsen attempted to massage the insistent pain in his temples away with his trembling fingers. He could barely watch as Lois paced up an down the length of her apartment, cell phone clutched desperately to her ear as she placed one determined call after another in search of her cousin and roommate.

"Someone in your offices has to know where she is?" Lois bellowed, her indignation rising with each frustrating call. "C, for Christmas, H, for hammer, L, for laundry, O, for omega, and E, for exit-- Chloe. Sullivan. Do you need me to spell that for you as well?" There was a short pause in the conversation before Lois muttered a curse, and then-- "S, for sugar, U, for uniform …"

From the moment those men from the Department of Domestic Security had shown up--three hours before to arrest Chloe-- Jimmy had found no peace in keeping still. With Chloe's screams for Clark still ringing in his ears, he'd jumped in his car and raced away from the small coffee shop, and scene of Chloe's arrest, to break every speed limit he'd dared in getting to the Kent farm.

He really didn't know what he expected Clark to do, once he told him of Chloe's arrest, Lex's involvement and his own behaviour, but Clark, upon hearing Jimmy's summary, had told him he'd handle it, and for Jimmy to go home and wait.

How in the hell was he supposed to go home and wait?

Europe and The United States were living in a new age of fear and suspicion since the events of 9/11. In this climate, Chloe's computer hacking abilities could be seen as a genuine threat to National Security, and skills that might have been applauded a decade before were now in serious jeopardy of handing Chloe a one-way ticket to Guantanamo Bay.

What the hell did Chloe think Clark could do anyway? Had he secretly been studying for a law degree while they all thought he was tending the farm?

Despite his belated reservations Jimmy had done what he'd been asked and got back on the road. He drove mindlessly for more than an hour, barely paying attention to road signs or speed limits before he realised he had no idea where he was.

His brain was fried.

Pulling his car off the highway and stopping Jimmy hit the steering wheel in frustration and anger. He had to do something!

He did; he called Lois Lane.

Lois had called it quits for the night at the _Daily Planet_ and was on her way up the stairs to her apartment above the Talon, when she'd taken the call from him. Jimmy had babbled incoherently for about thirty seconds before Lois was able to calm him down enough to understand the words, "Chloe" and "arrested."

Less than an hour later Olsen pulled his second-hand, powder blue, Volvo 240 into the alley adjacent to the coffee shop and rushed up the fire-escape entrance to the cousins' first floor home.

An hour after that and Lois was still getting nowhere in trying to establish where Chloe had been taken. Jimmy watched in awe as Lois took charge of the situation, immediately contacting the local Sheriff's office in Smallville, and then the four FBI field offices dotted around the State of Kansas, but at every turn she was given the run-around:

"She's not in our database, Ma'am."

"Try the field office in Topeka, we have no record of a Chloe Sullivan in custody here."

"Even if this person is your cousin, as you stated, we still couldn't authorise the release of information pertaining to an on-going federal investigation, Ma'am. Have a nice evening, now."

Lois cut her latest call to the so-called authorities and threw her phone down against her couch cushions in disgust. "Everyone's denying responsibility!" she raged, her pacing quickening with her agitation. "This is crazy. I can't get anyone to confirm or deny that they have her! And you know there's no address or even a contact number for the DDS, right?"

"They can't just do this … can they?" Jimmy offered weakly. It felt like there was a hose attached to his insides and it was slowly sucking the life out of him, one pint at a time.

_Oh, God, Chloe, he thought miserably. What have I done?_

"That son-of-a-bitch is going to' pay," Lois muttered from the other side of the room.

Jimmy slumped into an armchair and asked helplessly, "What are we going to do?"

Lois stopped pacing and turned to look at him.

Feeling her stare, Jimmy brought his head up and met her gaze. Lois' jaw was raised defiantly and her lips were set tightly together, almost snarling. Her eyes, hardened with anger and the threat of tears, had a far-off look to them as if she were gazing inward and her hands were fisted tightly against her hips.

It was a look that Jimmy had never seen on Lois before--she looked ready to kill.

Grabbing her abandoned cell phone from the couch, Lois placed another call.

"Ollie, its Lois. I need a huge favour."

_... to be continued ... _

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two  
**

**Four Days Later …  
**

Tess Carmichael read over the confidential report once more, just to be sure she hadn't misread the details of the document.

She hadn't.

Sliding out from behind her desk, Tess moved to gaze across the city she'd been calling home for more than a decade. New York's Central Park loomed out expansively in the distance from her 61st floor office suite located on Fifth Avenue.

The view she'd been afforded when she'd accepted Lex Luthor's stunning offer to become LexCorp's Director of International Operations had been nothing short of magnificent.

Her panoramic view took in the lush rectangle of Central Park to her north and west, the Neo-Gothic St Patrick's Cathedral across the street to the south and the Rockefeller Centre and the Museum of Modern Art to the east. The added bonus of watching the sun come up over the Empire State Building's art deco tower while she conducted breakfast meetings was also a stunningly beautiful view she didn't think she'd ever tire of. Turning back to her desk Tess couldn't keep her eyes away from the document she'd spent the better part of the morning reading and re-reading.

It had been confirmed--Lex was alive, but incapacitated.

The extent of his injuries was still unknown at this point, but he'd been moved, as per his own instructions in such an event, to the clinic in Sweden. Some of the world's foremost medical practitioners had already been flown out or were on their way to treat him. He'd get the best care possible. He would recover.

Returning to her desk, Tess slipped back into her leather high-back chair to leaf through the documents once more. Finally satisfied, her slim brown fingers reached for her silver ballpoint pen. She signed her name to the sheaf of papers before her with a habitual flourish, though she felt none of her usual confidence at that moment.

Lex had already put a lot of trust and faith in her in the past and she hadn't let him down. He seemed to appreciate her candour, and she wasn't frightened by his ambitions.

Clearly he felt she was ready for this; she felt it too.

She wouldn't let him down.

A press conference would be arranged for the following morning, after she'd informed the Board of Directors of the change personally.

Signalling her Personal Assistant, the LexCorp's legal team was quickly led into her office, their demeanours overly ingratiating and solicitous. The organization's team of lawyers knew exactly what was coming and what was at stake in the here and now.

Tess only had to glance across their sycophantic expressions to know that every one of them of them would be vying for an elevated seat … with her.

"Gentlemen," Tess announced, holding the document she'd signed out towards the men in suits. "It gives me great pleasure to confirm that I am now the Acting Chief Executive Officer of LexCorp, LuthorCorp International and all its enterprises and subsidiaries. Power of Attorney has been passed to me by Lex Luthor, and I have accepted, and by so doing I do swear to uphold the principles and ideals of LexCorp and LuthorCorp International. I look forward to enjoying your unwavering support as the organisation undergoes this minor transition."

The lawyers chorused their approval with polite applause and a round of "Hear, hear."

Tess accepted their endorsements politely, stealing glances every now and then over their shoulders towards the park and the Empire State Building.

She sighed inwardly, life was all about change she supposed, but damn, she was going to miss New York.

… _to be continued …  
_

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three  
**

In the relative safe-haven that was Oliver Queen's clock tower penthouse in Metropolis, it had taken Clark nearly a week to fully recover from the effects of the device that Lex had wielded against him in the Fortress.

Although Clark had been led to believe that the device could be used to control him, his Arctic encounter had left no apparent long-term effects, only the temporary loss of his abilities.

While he recovered Clark and J'onn had discussed what the Brain Interactive Construct might have done with the missing Kara.

" … Placed her in the Phantom Zone?" J'onn questioned one afternoon.

"That's what he did to me, when I wouldn't agree to be his vessel for Zod. Kara won't have her abilities there," Clark explained through a tired breath.

"Yes," J'onn agreed. "But you escaped using the shield of the House of El. As your blood, Kara would also be able to use it to gain her freedom."

"Right, but how?" Clark asked weakly as he attempted to sit up straighter against the couch cushions. "The shield's at the farm, but with the Fortress destroyed … I don't know any other way to get there."

"I can find her, Kal-El," J'onn assured him. "That is what I do, after all," he said warmly.

Clark was grateful for his friend's help, his own guilt over Kara's abduction, and his failure to realise the extent of the danger she was in, until it was way too late, gnawed at him constantly.

**-8-  
**

J'onn had certainly lived up to his name and reputation as a man hunter when he returned to Metropolis with Kara three-days later. Unfortunately, those three days on Earth had been closer to three-weeks within the Phantom Zone, and Kara had been there for even longer than that. Alone.

Having to, literally, fight for her life on a daily basis had tilted Kara's worldview onto its axis.

She was already pissed at Clark for not figuring out her predicament earlier, and her anger grew when Clark brought her up to speed on the home front: Lionel's death; Lex's disappearance; Chloe's arrest by the DDS and Lois having to call in Oliver Queen to see if he had enough influence to find her, never mind get her off any likely charges; and his girlfriend, Lana, dumping him via a DVD message.

It wasn't an impressive homecoming.

"I can't stay here, Kal-El," she'd admitted.

"What are you talking about?"

"These last few days, since he brought me back, I've been talking to J'onn, and after everything's that happened, I just need some time to figure out where I belong."

"Kara, you belong here," Clark said forcefully.

Kara shook her head, blond hair whipping around her shoulders. "No. You're not that little kid I was sent here to protect, Kal-El. You don't really need me to look out for you.

"J'onn knows some people in Minnesota I can stay with … while I … while I work things out."

Clark turned surprised eyes onto the Manhunter. "What are you doing?" he accused.

J'onn stood silently and impassively, his features hidden in the shadows of the setting sun.

"Don't blame him for this," Kara interjected. "We both need to find our own places in this world, Kal-El. You and me," she clarified. "And right now, I think I need to be somewhere else. Somewhere other than Smallville or Metropolis."

"Kara, I know you're mad at me, and I'm sorry about that, but think about this, you cant—"

"I have been thinking about this!" she shouted. "I've been thinking about this every day while I was stuck in that place. Do you know what it's like to have to kill to survive, Kal-El? Do you?" Kara demanded, her blues eyes flashing like flint on steel.

Too stunned by this latest revelation to speak, Clark had no answer.

"I need to leave, Kal-El. I really do."

Finally nodding in acceptance, Clark asked tentatively, "Keep in touch?"

"Sure," she nodded, her eyes never meeting his.

"Kara—"

"Don't," she shook her head quickly and held up a warning hand to forestall another apology. "If you need me, I'll be around. Just ... wait a couple of weeks before you call, okay?" she finished with a small but tired smile.

… _to be continued …_

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

After Tess Carmichael's first few weeks in Metropolis she finally felt like she was developing an understanding of whom the players in this game were.

Gazing out across the Metropolis skyline to an expanse of smaller buildings and the river to the west, the giant globe of the _Daily Planet_ building below and to the east, effectively standing across the street from the LuthorCorp Tower. It wasn't New York, but this city wasn't as bad as she'd imagined either.

Like Lionel and Lex Luthor before her, she could sense a lot of potential in this city.

Chief among her many new tasks would be how to manoeuvre these new players she'd been discovering into positions where she wanted them. If that meant arguing with the LuthorCorp Board of Directors over details, so be it.

"Tess, you can't be serious," Board member, Fred Bentley argued.

Bentley had had a seat on the board for more than fifteen years, serving as a loyal supporter of Lionel Luthor in his pomp, before switching alliances to the younger Luthor when it became clear who was really leading the company forward into the new millennium.

"Lex would never stand for this," Fred ranted on, his double chins jiggling in annoyance. "Lex, made it quite clear that this was a long-term investment acquisition."

"Selling now would be a betrayal," another board member huffed.

Tess moved to stand at the head of the large Walnut wood veneer executive conference table.

"Gentlemen," Tess began calmly, adjusting her perfectly coiffed and curled black hair before leaning forward to rest her palms flat against the table's rich Chestnut finish, her highly manicured nails reflecting off of the highly polished surface.

"I know what Lex Luthor expects of me in this role," she said, making slow but piercing eye contact with each member of the board. When she was sure she had their undivided attention she continued.

"Lex appointed me as your acting CEO in his absence, and I take his act of trust in me very, very seriously. However the terms of my renegotiated contract with this organisation are very clear: I have complete autonomy in the running of LexCorp and LuthorCorp International." Tess paused for a moment, allowing the meaning behind her words to ripple around the room.

"In decisions such as this, I'd prefer your support of course, but gentlemen, let me remind you that I don't need it and I don't have to answer to any of you. So, by close of business today Stern Enterprises will become the legal owners of the _Daily Planet_ newspaper and its various periodicals. The deal is effectively done.

"Now, was there any other business?"

**-8-**

Lois Lane sat at her desk at the _Daily Planet_ scribbling rough notes on story ideas she wanted to follow up on. As she reviewed her note pad she crossed off Franklin Stern, new owner of the _Daily Planet_.

After she'd got wind of the DP's impending sale she'd immediately investigated the perspective new owner's background, interviewing, under the pretence of a biographical article, a number of Stern Enterprise employees, past and present, as well as a number of former and current business associates.

Stern wasn't as pure as the driven snow by any means, after all business is business, but Lois was satisfied that Franklin Stern, wealthy philanthropist and publisher, had integrity and valued honesty. And judging by the appointment of the respected journalist, Perry White, as the paper's new Editor in Chief, Stern wasn't going to be taking a hands-on approach to reporting the news, the way Lex had.

Things were looking up.

Returning to her list Lois drew a line under the name Tess Carmichael. Since Lex Luthor's abrupt and mysterious disappearance from public life over a month ago Tess had emerged in his stead, running the company as its acting CEO with the apparent full backing of the LuthorCorp board. Try as she might though, Lois could find nothing damning on Tess, no nefarious links to Lex's many dubious meta-human projects, no accusations of blackmail, extortion or any other kind of wrongdoing. Yet.

Carmichael's bio read like a poster child for everything the NAACP stood for. Born in 1972 and raised in an affluent black suburb in Chicago, Illinois, Tess had graduated summa cum laude from Harvard Law School with degrees in Business and Law.

She then spent the next several years establishing a reputation for making profits and turning around failing businesses as a financial consultant and analyst at various international finance companies.

In the wake of Lionel Luthor's failed takeover bid for the Asian based Apex consortium and his subsequent arrest and conviction for the double murder of his parents in 2004, Lex Luthor had worked relentlessly for months to hire Tess. Her impressive reputation was just what LuthorCorp needed to improve the slumping business profile of the organization.

Eventually convinced that Lex could offer her a challenge she'd enjoy, she was appointed to the newly created position of LuthorCorp's Director of International Operations, working out of LuthorCorp's New York offices.

She had been serving the company with distinction ever since.

Lois couldn't believe that Lex--that anally retentive, power hungry bald bastard--would allow the future dealings of his company to fall into the hands of a mere employee, no matter their capability or reputation, which was without question, Lois conceded, but something was definitely off about the whole scenario.

"Hey, Lois," a deep, friendly voice offered in greeting.

Lois glanced up at the familiar voice and found Clark grinning back at her from his seat at the desk opposite her own.

"Smallville, hey," she breathed, her voice unable to hide her surprise at his presence. "Where the hell have you been, Clark? I was practically on the verge of calling your mother."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he responded, his smile sobering.

"Well?" Lois demanded crossing her arms against her chest and sliding her chair back a bit to study Clark closely.

She hadn't seen him in nearly three weeks, not since they'd packed off Chloe to Star City in California, where Oliver Queen, working anonymously through a team of lawyers had effectively won Chloe a reprieve from the DDS and secured her freedom. However, knowing that she would remain on the DDS' radar for the foreseeable future, Queen had hatched an audacious plan to have Chloe "disappear," and then for her to re-emerge in Star City with a new identity and a new personal history.

Difficult though it was to take, Oliver had argued successfully that this was the only way to truly keep Chloe safe and permanently off the DDS' most watched list. This also meant that she would also have to cut her previous links to Smallville and Metropolis, including that of all her friends and family.

Gabe Sullivan, Jimmy Olsen and Lois took the news the hardest, but a resilient Chloe seemed to have no problem dealing with their final separation.

"You know that Kara hasn't been too well recently so I thought I'd go check on her in Minnesota."

Lois raised a sceptical eyebrow. "So what, you can't call or send emails from Minnesota? Come on, Clark. You didn't even respond to one of my messages. I thought maybe a cow or something had trampled you. I mean, what about the farm?"

Clark ran a large hand through his hair and sighed. Lois watched him, as he appeared to struggle with answers.

"I don't need full disclosure, Smallville. I was just worried about you is all. Chloe … not being around has affected us all I guess," she finished sympathetically.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "But I didn't mean to make you worry, Lois. I'm sorry. I just needed to work through some stuff on my own," Clark continued sincerely. "Minnesota's a good place to do that I guess," he shrugged apologetically.

Lois nodded in appeasement. She wasn't entirely satisfied with his answer, but she wasn't going to push him for more details either. He'd open up and tell her more when he was ready, he usually did.

"So, how is Kara?" Lois asked changing the subject to a much brighter topic, she hoped.

"Kara's good, she sends her best. She'll be starting college this fall at Lawrence Tech, in Michigan," Clark answered proudly.

"Great! What's she studying?"

"Engineering Technology."

"Hey, heads up, people!" a voice called out to the basement staff. "The new editor," the same voice went onto whisper conspiratorially.

All heads and eyes swivelled towards the staircase as the new Editor in Chief of the _Daily Planet_ came down the final stair and began moving slowly among the basement staff. The gruff looking man, who appeared to be in his early fifties, would stop here and there exchanging words and smiling with some of the staff.

"That's Perry White, our new editor," Lois explained quietly to Clark as they watched Perry engage with the troops. "I did a little checking; he has a pretty impressive resume, despite spending a few years on the sauce not too long ago."

"Oh, yeah?" Clark responded behind a slightly knowing smile.

Lois and Clark watched with interest as the new editor directed his attention towards them. The pull of Perry's serious gaze got Lois moving to her feet and she stepped around her desk to stand with Clark, who'd already rolled his chair around to stand and face the Planet's latest editor.

"I've read your work, Lane," Perry announced, nodding his head briefly in her direction as he drew to a stop before them. "Some of what you've written here, and at _The Inquisitor;_ I liked it. You've got balls, kid. Keep it up."

"Thanks, Chief," Lois beamed proudly.

"Don't call me, Chief, kid," Perry admonished, brandishing a warning finger in her direction. "Kent," the older man continued, clapping Clark on the shoulder with a brawny hand. "I'm giving you a chance here, because you asked and I owed you."

Lois' eyebrows shot up and her face became twisted in confusion, at Clark and Perry's unexpected exchange.

"But this is it," Perry continued to lecture Clark. "The rest is up to you. If you can't hack it, I've got a hundred snot-nosed journalism majors more than ready to grab their chance at an internship."

"You won't regret giving me this opportunity, Mr. White."

"We'll see, Kent, we'll see. Lane," the new editor raised a meaty finger in Lois's direction. "I want you to help Kent get his feet wet, understand? He'll need someone around him with street smarts and tenacity--from what I've heard; he'll get plenty of that from you," he instructed.

"And this goes for all of you," Perry bellowed, turning towards the sea of expectant faces as he raised his powerful voice among them. "There'll be no free rides for anyone from now on and no slacking! We report the news, news verified by facts, people! Gossip will stay where it belongs; in the tabloids section, and will not, I repeat, will not be my front-page lead. Ever! Is that understood?"

Heads bobbed in understanding around the basement.

"Good. Now, stop standing around and get back to work!" he barked before marching back up the stairs while the basement newsroom returned to its usual clamour.

A stunned Lois turned to a still grinning Clark.

"You applied for the internship?"

Clark nodded, smiling.

"And Perry White owed you a favour?" she questioned incredulously.

His grin getting wider, Clark simply nodded again.

Lois continued to gawk at her friend, her voice getting a little higher than usual with each question. It was as if a key was being turned in a lock as she finally realised what she had just witnessed.

"You work here now?" she breathed out, as if she was asking herself to clarify the situation.

"When I read about the change of ownership a couple of weeks ago, I figured sending in that application wouldn't hurt, plus …"

"Perry White owed you a favour," Lois finished for him, chuckling with amusement. "Smallville," she grinned proudly, jumping off the desk to thump him on the arm. "You work here," she said again through a happy smile.

"I was hoping you'd be pleased about it," he smiled back.

"How do you even know Perry White? You know what, scratch that; it's about time you got off your ass," Lois declared, retaking her seat. "But just remember, you're not working with me, you are working for me. I call the shots, I ask the questions. You are low man--I am top banana and that's the way I like it, comprende?"

Clark smirked back across the desk. "Sure, Lois. You like to be on top. Got it."

Lois snorted. "Don't push me, Kent, you are way out of your league."

Things were definitely looking up.

… _to be continued …_

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"We're going to have to get you some new clothes," Lois declared two days after Perry White had teamed them up.

"What?"

"A couple of suits to start and a few shirts," Lois had continued, her nose wrinkling in disapproval as her eyes scanned the length of his body.

"Again, what?"

"Smallville, we're not working for the _Farmer's Monthly_ here. If you're going to be working at the DP, you better start looking the part. Blue jeans and your red jacket-blue jacket combo, make you stick out like a giant turd in a small bale of hay."

It took Clark a few moments to recover from that particular barb before he'd managed a sarcastic, "How do you even _get_ interviews, Lois? I mean, your charm, wow, it just pours right out."

"Come on," she'd said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along, completely undaunted by his hurt pride. "We're going shopping."

Clark had always found suits and ties a little constricting--never enough give across the back, the arms were too short, or the leg of the pants were too tight across the thighs--but he was now getting used to wearing them on a daily basis after Lois had practically forced him into buying two, heavily discounted (thanks to her connections) suits from a warehouse outlet in the garment district of Metropolis.

Clark couldn't deny that the impact within the basement of the DP had been immediate; suddenly everyone (okay, not _everyone_, but a number of female staff) wanted to make his acquaintance, enquiring whether Lois was treating him okay and offering to give him tips on the business over drinks at a local bar or dinner after work.

He'd begged them all off, not enjoying the new and intrusive attention. He didn't think Lois enjoyed it either, she never said anything out right, but he'd catch her from time to time, scowling at yet another offer of coffee or lunch, from over the top of her computer.

Maybe he'd talk to his Mom later, get her input on how he could blend into the background a little bit more than his closely fitting work suits allowed.

**-8-**

Never satisfied with sitting at her desk and Googling the Internet for a quick answer--Lois preferred to do her legwork the old fashioned way.

Her source in Metropolis' local government offices had dropped a few hints that a single construction company had managed to win a number of major contracts for new building projects around the city.

Lois didn't waste any time checking who'd won those recent, and potentially very lucrative, government contracts.

In compliance with State and Federal regulations, city officials were required to process all contractual acquisitions through a sealed bidding process.

Sealed bids were deemed the fairest procurement method since no opportunity was then offered to a prospective contractor to appear more efficient than another, and no bias could be inferred or leverage attained for an unfair advantage.

Lois found it interesting to note that the G and L Construction Company had managed to win nearly sixty percent of the tenders for new building projects; and while such a wild series of coincidences seemed unlikely, that alone didn't prove corruption. Which was why she was currently hanging out among the poorly lit, crime riddled streets of Suicide Slum.

If one area of the city was ripe for redevelopment it was here. Every city councilman and Mayor from the 1980's onwards had all been elected to office running on the promise that they'd clean up the neighbourhood, invest in new housing, businesses and schools, and yet every year those promises remained unfulfilled and Suicide Slum remained as grim as its name suggested.

"Hey, Lane. Over here," a voice whispered tightly out to her from the darkness.

Lois turned towards the sound, peering into the darkened shadows until she caught sight of a partially hidden silhouette. "Smith?"

A dark head acknowledged her query with a nod in the affirmative.

"Why does it always have to be here?" Lois complained to herself, moving toward the man she'd come here to meet. "Couldn't we do this in a bar, up town somewhere?" she said, raising her voice slightly.

"You know how this works, Lane," Smith said grimly, his face still cloaked in darkness. "I can't take that chance."

She nodded. Smith was an obvious pseudonym. Lois had no idea what this financial accountant for the city council's real name was, but she respected that he was putting his job on line in the name of truth.

"Okay, I'm here. Let's talk."

The only contact they'd shared to date had been through brief phone calls and emails sent through anonymous servers. This was their first meeting.

Lois moved closer to the darkly dressed man. "How did G and L Construction manage to win four out of seven city contracts in the last two years?"

Smith remained in shadow, but cast his head around the narrow street, as if checking that they were alone.

Lois followed his cautious gaze.

Seemingly satisfied he took a step toward her, before pursing his lips together responding briefly with, "They own the city, Miss Lane. That's how."

"What are you talking about? G and L are a Mom and Pop company out of Chicago. They've been expanding across the Mid-West over the last decade."

Lois had done her homework; G and L's first contract in Metropolis was in the wake of the clean up after Dark Thursday, so she was taken aback by Smith's statement. Accusations like that needed more meat on the bone, if they were to be taken seriously.

"Yes," Smith agreed. "It's a good cover story they have, but I believe it's a lie."

"You believe?" Lois scoffed. "I hope you didn't drag me out here on a whim, pal. You said you knew what was going on."

"Maybe this will help you to understand," Smith said, reaching into the folds of his overcoat.

He rooted around an inside pocket for a few seconds before bringing his right hand free of the material, his fist slightly raised, before bringing it down in a quick, vicious arc.

Lois's brain processed the sliver of light against the raised metal before she had a chance to name what it was, twisting her face and upper body away before the brass knuckles, Smith had managed to slide on in the darkness, impacted her face.

She took the shattering blow to her right shoulder, and its powerful momentum sent her spinning around before her legs buckled beneath her, hitting the pavement, injured shoulder first, with a loud cry of pain.

She tasted her own blood as she bit her lip in the fall, but she didn't give herself a moment to berate her situation, or the wisdom of having a first meeting with a brand new source, in the worst crime spot in the city.

She could reflect on her woes later, after she'd kicked this son-of-a-bitch's ass.

Lois' fighting instincts took over, and turning onto her back she kicked out at her attacker, delivering a glancing blow to his thigh that only made him stumble back slightly before he rushed her again, his right foot aiming a martial-arts like kick to her already injured shoulder.

She swung her a long legs out again, this time in a sweeping motion, hoping to knock Smith off his feet, but he was faster. He skipped over her outstretched legs easily; his movements cat-like and graceful, Lois couldn't help noting. In one move he had avoided her defence and delivered another crunching blow to her injured shoulder with the heel of his boot.

The force of the blow jarred her back and neck, hard against the concrete, and falling back, Lois kicked out wildly, staggering him slightly, when she connected with his knee.

Barely slowed by her success, Smith raised his boot high again, this time aiming his quick feet at her head. Lois closed her eyes and tried to roll away, knowing she wouldn't be able to completely avoid the face rearranging that was coming.

Smith's heavily booted foot never made the contact she was expecting.

Instead, she heard a whooshing sound followed by a thud that seemed to momentarily shake the ground around her. The small quake was followed by the sound of something dull crashing heavily against a dumpster, followed by a male groan and then silence.

Opening her eyes slowly, Lois looked around cautiously.

The back of a long pair of legs, encased in dark fitting suit pants, filled her line of vision. Between the powerful looking thighs she spied Smith, or whatever his name was, sprawled out, flat on his back, next to a dumpster across the street. He looked unconscious.

The powerful figure, that appeared to have come to her rescue, turned towards her, crouched down swiftly and began scanning her for injuries.

"Lois? Lois, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Clark?" she squeaked out, her voice equal parts awe and disbelief. "What are you--?"

"Lois, you're bleeding," Clark hissed, cutting off her half formed question with the tender touch of his forefinger to the corner of her bottom lip.

The reminder of her cut lip made it sting, along with the growing realisation that her right shoulder was throbbing in pain and her arm felt numb.

Ignoring the pain and the weird shiver that ran up her spine at Clark's gentle caress, Lois grabbed onto his wrist with her good arm, and used it as an anchor to help her get to her feet.

As Clark gently pulled her up, she hissed out an agonised, "Shit!" No longer able to ignore the pain she was in, as it ramped itself up to what felt like limb-shredding proportions.

"Lois?"

She let go of his hand and doubled over, holding onto her right arm at the elbow. The pain was like a series of hammer blows that spread out in ever increasing circles from just below her neck to the tips of her fingers.

"I've got you."

She couldn't focus on what Clark was saying next to her, the pain was so bad. And then the world, as she knew it, began to sway and dip.

… _**to be continued …**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It had been a long night and Clark couldn't sleep.

He'd let himself get distracted and look what had nearly happened?

Clark knew Lois would likely ditch him after work that evening, for one of her frequent after dark fact-finding missions. She usually dragged Jimmy along on such jaunts, accusing Clark of jeopardising her, potentially, good stories because of his reluctance to take risks.

He'd followed her to Suicide Slum, maintaining a safe enough distance so that Lois wouldn't see or hear him. He'd been doing it for a while now, making sure she stayed out of trouble, and being close enough to react if she needed an intervention. But he'd heard a cry for help several blocks away and reacted as he was becoming accustomed to these days: rushing to help.

A gang of thugs had surrounded a man of about thirty years of age and they were beating at him with a combination of their fists and feet. A few of the thugs carried heavy looking iron chains. Clark had set amongst them like a whirlwind, knocking them aside, grabbing the beaten man and speeding him to the safety of a police patrol car a few blocks away.

He'd given neither the police nor the man he'd saved from a beating, the chance to get a good look at him, he hoped. Returning to check on Lois, he'd felt all kinds of smug and proud of himself for helping that guy, but within moments he's little act of heroism meant nothing to him when he picked up on Lois' scream of pain.

So, he'd spent the last few hours pacing anxiously around her apartment, his jumbled thoughts scattered between his own unfocused guilt and his concern for Lois.

Her new apartment--a sparsely furnished, one bedroom, third floor, studio in Metropolis--was much smaller than the one she'd shared with Chloe, in Smallville.

After Chloe's abrupt departure from their lives, Lois had begun devoting more and more of her time to her work in Metropolis at the _Daily Planet_. So within weeks she'd begun looking at affordable apartments; close enough to the DP for a quick commute to work, but far enough away to give her the illusion of living apart from the hustle and glitz of the city's bustling New Troy area.

When Clark and Jimmy Olsen had helped Lois move in, all she'd brought with her from Smallville was her two-seater couch, crockery, her bed, some framed photos and other knick-knacks. The rest she'd either put in storage (Clark's loft) or sold during a garage sale she'd held just before leaving the Talon apartment for good.

She'd spent a little money on a second-hand writing desk, which was basically an old dining table, versatile enough to be used as a base station for her laptop, and as a place to stack her rough notes and writing pads, as well as for eating her frequent take-out dinners.

Clark tried to comfort himself with the thought that at least she _still had_ take-out dinners in her future.

When she'd slumped so heavily against him, after the attack in Suicide Slum, he'd experienced a moment of panic, for a split second fearing the worst, as he'd tried to quickly assess the extent of her injuries.

He'd speeded her to the emergency room of Metropolis General, as fast as he dared to travel, not wanting to do further damage to what he suspected was a dislocated right shoulder.

The emergency room staff had confirmed his assessment later, popping the shoulder back into place, before sending Lois home, her right arm in a sling, and arming her with a small crate of painkillers and medication to reduce the inflammation of the affected joint and surrounding tissue.

The police had arrived to take her statement, shortly after she'd been examined, as was hospital procedure under the circumstances. But as Lois had no real clue who'd she'd gone to meet that night, nor could she or Clark provide an accurate description of her assailant, the two officers didn't offer much in the way of a hopeful investigation, instead cautioning her against repeating such actions in the future.

Lois had shot them a irritated and sarcastic, "Sure. Thanks," as her first round of painkillers took effect.

She'd put up a fight, a usual, when he'd offered to spend the night, after seeing her home from the hospital.

"I'll be fine, Clark. I can just pop a few happy pills," she said, through gritted teeth. "Thanks for seeing me home and … and back there," she hesitated, while Clark had begun to brew cups of tea for them both. "You don't have to stay."

He could see her every movement was causing her pain. There was no way he was leaving her alone tonight. He corrected himself immediately, there was no way he was leaving her alone for the next few days; however long it was going to take for her to physically recover.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time, Lois?" he couldn't help demanding.

Her pig-headedness was beginning to grate on him in the worst way. He knew that if their positions were reversed she'd be first in line (with his mother) to help in any way that she could.

"I can see that you're in pain, and I want to help you. Lois, just let me help you, please, okay?"

"Fine," she'd agreed reluctantly. "You can sleep on the couch."

She'd had the good grace to look a little embarrassed by Clark's pleading tone, and he sighed in relief, glad not to have to force her to accept that he wasn't going to leave her anytime soon.

Sleep had eventually claimed him some time later, though he would hardly call it comfortable, having to fit his large frame onto Lois' small two-seater couch.

When he'd awoken the next morning, to his cell phone alarm blaring somewhere near his head, grabbing at it blindly he shut it off, and opened his tired eyes to the sight of Lois staring down at him.

She was dressed in blue, teddy bear patterned pyjamas the hospital issued sling housing her right arm, and she wore the most curious of expressions.

"Lois, what do you need, I'll go get it," his sleep addled brain forced out. He stretched his long legs out across the couch, so that they hung off the end of the chair, ran a hand through his mussed hair and yawned.

"A new couch," she answered, a small smirk beginning to appear at the corner of her mouth.

"Huh?"

"You broke my couch, Smallville."

It was taking a while for Lois' non-sequiturs to penetrate his sleepy brain.

Then it hit him.

Clark sat up abruptly, the thin sheet covering him falling across his lap. At some point, during his brief sleep, he managed to kick the end off of Lois' small couch. The remnants of the couch's arm lay hanging by a few stitches against the laminated wood floor.

"Want to tell me how you did that?" Lois asked, her tone, surprisingly teasing, considering the circumstances.

"Oh … Umm."

He didn't suppose a story about a gust of wind was going to work this time.

On the bright side, he could tell her the truth; never have to lie to her again, and that thought warmed him and frightened him.

What if she couldn't handle his other-worldliness?

Sure, in that other reality he'd briefly experienced, Lois had taken his abilities and strangeness in her stride, even appearing to like it a little, but what if his Lois thought him a freak, looked at him differently? What if his Lois decided that she didn't want to be around him or that…?

Interrupting his panicked thoughts, Lois declared, "You can tell me over breakfast."

She was sitting at the table now, rubbing lightly at her injured arm.

"Pancakes. Flour's in the cupboard above the sink, and there's milk and eggs in the fridge," she instructed.

How did she do that? He wondered; putting him at ease, teasing him, infuriating him, all with just a look, or a smirk or a snarky comment.

Clark couldn't help smiling a little as he swung his bare legs over the side of the ruined couch. Typical Lois, he decided. Taking it all in her stride.

"Pancakes," he agreed.

**-8-**

Later that morning, across town, Tess Carmichael smiled with satisfaction as she read through the discreet report, Thompson, her head of security, had prepared for her.

The operation was proceeding as planned, and last night's actions had delivered its desired effect.

There was a long way to go, but she was already committed to the long haul, and she could be patient.

Lex would be pleased.

**-8-**

… _**to be continued …**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven - Interludes**

* * *

**The Daily Planet - Online**

**November 17****th**** 2009**

**LuthorCorp No More! **

_**Daily Planet**_** Exclusive**

**Lois Lane, city desk**

_**Flagship Luthor company to be swallowed up by LexCorp**_

LexCorp's acting CEO, Tess Carmichael, called the move, "a necessary step in order to streamline and rebrand the organisation during the current climate of recession."

Lionel Luthor, founder, CEO, and father of Lex Luthor, ran LuthorCorp, until his apparent suicide last year.

Lex Luthor, the reclusive owner of LexCorp, appears to run the global company in name only, deferring responsibility for the running of all LexCorp industries and their subsidiaries to acting CEO, Tess Carmichael.

Story Continues 

See links for further details on the ups and downs of the Luthor's:

Lionel Luthor - Obituary

Lex Luthor – Where is he?

Tess Carmichael

Listen to the press conference Podcast

_**Daily Planet**_** Online – Regular Features**

**NEWS**

**SPORTS**

**COMMENT**

**CULTURE**

**BUSINESS**

**MONEY**

**LIFE STYLE**

**TRAVEL**

**ENVIRONMENT**

**BLOGS**

* * *

**Wolverines Win Again!**

**The Metropolis Wolverines' five game winning streak continued last night****, **as they went on the road to conquer the Padres in San Diego, California.

Read More

"Mystery" man saves dozens of stranded families, as "worst storm in living memory," shuts roads, rail and air travel.

Full Story

* * *

**-8-**

* * *

**The Daily Planet - Online**

**September 4****th**** 2010**

**S.T.A.R. Labs SOLD! **

_**Daily Planet**_** Exclusive **

**Lois Lane, city desk**

_**New CEO promises no job cuts and millions in new funding**_

Oliver Queen, CEO of Queen Industries, has today confirmed the purchase of the scientific research facility, S.T.A.R. Labs.

The facility, once considered at the cutting edge of science and technological research, has struggled to raise funding for its continued studies during the past decade, as its board looked to more ethical and eco-friendly uses for its research. And in so doing, declining a number of lucrative government defence contracts.

In this exclusive interview, Queen revealed his interest in offering S.T.A.R. Labs, what many are calling, an eleventh-hour reprieve.

"My aim is to continue to support S.T.A.R. Labs in any way that I can.

The research this facility has undertaken over the years shouldn't be ignored. They've been at the forefront of creating vaccines in the treatment of AIDS, as well as against a raft of tropical diseases--including the Ebola virus, many forms of cancer and Parkinson's disease.

I believe in what the existing Board is trying to achieve here, and there will be no downsizing, and no pay freezes, while accountants assess losses or gains."

Encouraging words, especially when you consider that Queen is inheriting a company that, in its last financial report, declared losses in excess of 142m.

The charming billionaire merely shrugged his shoulders, "I'm well aware of S.T.A.R. Labs' financial situation, but I believe in what this operation can do. Yes, it's a financial risk--what isn't?

What I'd rather think about are the lives that might be saved with vaccines, medicines or medical techniques that S.T.A.R. Labs is going to be responsible for creating in the coming years. I want to be a part of that--a small part, but a part nonetheless."

Read the full interview

S.T.A.R. Labs

Queen Industries

_**Daily Planet**_** Online – Regular Features**

**NEWS**

**SPORTS**

**COMMENT**

**CULTURE**

**BUSINESS**

**MONEY**

**LIFE STYLE**

**TRAVEL**

**ENVIRONMENT**

**BLOGS**

* * *

**Tenralk Oil and Gas buys US firm for 350m **

**Kim Okuda, industrial editor**

**The Russian company, Tenralk Oil and Gas, said today that it had agreed to a 330m**takeover of the United States based Fisk-Haller Energy, in a deal unanimously recommended by the target's board.

Set up 15 years ago, by Russian owners Satirev Tenralk and the late Oleg Kishinevsky, Tenralk Oil and Gas, is to pay 60cents a share to shareholders in the US firm, 30 more than the share's closing price on Friday.

Read More

**School bus "miraculously" saved from bridge plunge!**

**All bus passengers from a local** high school escape unharmed.

Witness describes how bus hung precariously until last passenger had escaped to safety.

Full Story

Pictures

* * *

**-8-**

* * *

**The Daily Planet - Online**

**May 19****th**** 2011**

**Mysterious "Flying Man" Saves Millions!**

**Perry White, editor in chief**

_**Weapons test malfunction put entire city at risk**_

A man dressed in a blue, wearing a red cape, and apparently able to fly, saved the city this afternoon from certain catastrophe.

Claiborne Defence Systems meanwhile has been issuing swift apologies to the citizens of Metropolis, after its missile prototype, the XC-101, malfunctioned during a scheduled weapons test, where it was plucked from the sky by the caped mystery man.

Once the missile's operators realised the XC-101 was off course, and had failed to answer its abort signal, the city's emergency services had immediately been put on high alert.

The missile, though unarmed, would have wreaked catastrophic detonation if it had exploded within Metropolis city limits. And with only minutes to act, city officials and emergency services could only hope for a miracle.

Their prayers were answered in the shape of this mystery flying man, who flew in from seemingly nowhere, to divert the weapon away from the city, harmlessly destroying the device, high up, in the Earth's upper atmosphere.

It is thought that this flying man has been responsible for a number of rescues, over the last two years.

Story Continues 

**Have you seen this mystery man?**

**Join the debate!**

Friend or Foe?

Can a Man Really Fly?

The _Daily Planet_ apologises for the poor quality of photos:

Pictures of the Missile Diversion

**Who Sold Our City?**

Read the editorial by **Perry White** and discover the truth behind: weapons testing near a civilian population – how does this happen?

**Daily Planet Online – Regular Features**

**NEWS**

**SPORTS**

**COMMENT**

**CULTURE**

**BUSINESS**

**MONEY**

**LIFE STYLE**

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* * *

**Deputy Police Chief Arrested! **

_**Daily Planet**_** Exclusive**

**Lois Lane and Clark Kent, city desk**

**Murder, police corruption, extortion, drug dealing and prostitution** are just some of the charges, Metropolis' Deputy Chief of Police, David Orly, stands accused of.

His arrest is part of an on-going operation, by the Police internal affairs division, into numerous reports of police corruption at the highest level.

Orly's arrest will come as a blow to the credibility of Metropolis' Police Chief, Jay Spearing, and his remaining administration, after he declared, two months ago, that he had "the utmost confidence that fair and effective policing was being carried out, across all levels of the Metropolis Police Department."

At a police press conference this morning, called in the wake of Orly's arrest, Chief Spearing refused to be drawn into answering questions concerning the detention of his deputy and colleague, or on questions concerning his own position.

Instead he read from a prepared statement, stressing that, "We never flinched in our duty to investigate our suspicions and in prosecuting those who betray our trust.

If these charges are proved, we have been let down and, more importantly, the people we serve will have been let down."

Full Story

**Have Your Say:**

Police Corruption – Endemic Problem or a Few Bad Apples?

What now for "disgraced" Deputy David Orly and Chief Spearing?

* * *

**-8-**

* * *

**The Daily Planet – Online June 1st 2011**

**I Spent the Night With … **

**Superman!**

_**Daily Planet**_** World Exclusive **

**Lois Lane, city desk**

"_**Flying Man" reveals all in candid first interview**_

His cape fluttered in the breeze as he landed--yes landed--a few feet from where I stood, my mouth agape and eyes opened so wide in amazement, it's a wonder they didn't fall out of my head.

If this sounds like something from a teenage fantasy, then you'd probably be right, only this isn't a fantasy--not anymore; it's real, he's real.

Superman, the caped wonder, who's been stunning the city with his amazing acts of heroism is real, and according to him, he's here to stay.

When a man who can fly swoops onto your balcony, offering to answer all of your questions; questions that must be on the lips of everyone, whether from the heart of our fair city, or from any known corner of the globe--where do you start?

As is the habit of a reporter, I couldn't start with a single question, so when I finally regained my composure, and my voice, I started with: Who are you, where do you come from and why are you here?

This stranger, this large framed man, dressed in his trademark red and blue costume, his cape undulating gently as the balmy evening breeze offered brief respite from the recent muggy and oppressive summer evenings, responded in a deep, but friendly baritone:

"My name is Kal-El, and I was born on a planet called Krypton.

"Krypton was a dying planet and my parents, as scientists, realised that the planet's destruction was imminent. With no time to save our world's population or themselves, they put me in a small, space ship and sent me to Earth, in the hopes that I, might survive the total obliteration of our civilization.

"After I reached Earth, I was fortunate enough to be found and raised by good people; and I have been living as one of you, practically all of my life.

"Yes, I am an alien, the planet of my birth had a different culture from any of your own, but I have been raised as a human. I respect all life, and my aims, and ambitions, if you want to call them that, are that I'm here to help."

I wanted to know what kind of "help" he had in mind. This world has had its share of despots and dictators, all climbing their way to power on the innocent steps of "wanting to help".

Superman's blue eyes pierced me with their quiet intensity; he spoke slowly, passionately and earnestly, and left this world-weary reporter with no doubts about his intentions.

"Ms. Lane," he said respectfully. "I want to stand for something in this world--I want to fight for something. I have abilities that allow me to stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves.

"I'm here to preserve truth and justice, and not for an elite few, but for all. I want to be a friend to this world, Ms. Lane, to the whole world. This planet gave me life, it sustains me; it nourishes me. I think the least I can do, is try and give a little something back."

World Exclusive Continues 

**5 Things You Didn't Know About Superman**

1. Doesn't drink

2. Doesn't smoke

3. Can light fire with his eyes!

4. Can bend steel bars with his bare hands

5. Faster than a high-speed train

**Superman's Tale of the Tape:**

Height: 6'4" (1.93 m)

Weight: 225 lbs (102 kg)

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Black

**Krypton** – Was it real? Where is/was it? - Astronomers Provide Answers

Pictures of Superman in Action! 

**Daily Planet Online – Regular Features**

**NEWS SPORTS COMMENT CULTURE BUSINESS **

**MONEY LIFE STYLE TRAVEL ENVIRONMENT BLOGS**

* * *

**-8-**

Lex Luthor laughed bitterly before tossing aside the printed, online articles he'd been reading and reached for his glass of scotch. He sipped at the bitter liquid, enjoying the slight burning sensation of it, as it travelled down his throat.

"You shouldn't be drinking, Mister Luthor, it could compromise the good progress you've been making," advised one of Lex's doctors, a woman with a thick Greek accent.

Not impressed by the doctor's counselling tone Lex quickly got to his feet and strode out toward the edge of the alpine veranda. Before him lay the rugged coastline of his private island, off the coast of Sweden, and beyond that, the frigid waters of the Baltic Sea. Leaning against the wooden rail, Lex took in a deep lung full of air and cast his arms out wide, his drink still in hand.

"After two years of intense physical therapy, doctor, I feel better than ever," Lex said casually. "Besides, weren't you the one to diagnose me as having a unique metabolic system? According to your own research, if I drank all day, every day, my liver wouldn't even twitch."

"The tests we conducted, Mister Luthor, may have been extensive, but they were not conclusive. There may be a host of medical concerns and issues for us still to discover. You shouldn't take your good fortune for granted," the doctor continued, joining Lex on the balcony.

"Oh, believe me, Doctor Thanou, I don't."

"Here," Thanou said, handing Lex a letter size document that was spiral bound and had a protective plastic covering. "Lab site B's progress report."

"Give me the highlights," Lex ordered, as he took the document in one hand and passed his drink over to the doctor with the other. He quickly leafed through the pages, pausing only to look at one or two photos.

"The specifications you asked for are quite unusual, so we've had some trouble in developing a number of the apparatuses you requested."

"Trouble? I've expended a lot of time and money on flying in you, and all of your specialist colleagues, doctor," Lex said coldly, throwing the document across the porch; it landed at the foot of his chair. "I don't pay you to have trouble."

Swiping his drink back from Doctor Thanou, Lex gave the woman a cold, appraising stare.

"Of course," Thanou replied instantly. "Things will go much smoother when we have the mineral to work with," she suggested, her tone instantly appeasing. "When will it arrive?"

Lex sipped at his drink for a few moments, contemplating his answer.

"Soon," he assured her.

**-8-**

* * *

**The Daily Planet - Online**

**April 27****th**** 2013**

"**Prodigal Son" Returns **

_**Daily Planet**_

**Ron Troupe, city desk**

_**Lex Luthor returns to Metropolis.**_

Four years after disappearing mysteriously, Lex Luthor, billionaire owner of LexCorp, returned from his self-imposed exile by launching a highly publicised press conference on the steps of City Hall.

Flanked by bodyguards on either side of him and accompanied by Tess Carmichael, acting LexCorp CEO these last four years, Luthor looked every inch the returning hero, as he smiled broadly and shared pleasantries with the attending press-corps.

When questioned about his disappearance, Luthor had this to say: "For a long time I was grieving. I think it took a while for my father's death (Lionel Luthor) to hit home.

"In those initial few weeks I think I was functioning on autopilot: running the business, preparing his funeral, attending to his estate. Things like that kept me going for a while, so when it did finally hit me; it was like freefalling from a plane without a parachute. And the worst of it was I didn't know when or if I was ever going to hit bottom.

Asked if he was now running LexCorp, and to define what that meant for Tess, Lex ushered Ms Carmichael to the podium.

"Lex intends to ease himself back into the day to day running of the organisation," she explained graciously. "My power of attorney will remain, until such time as Lex feels ready to resume a more full and active role as our Chief Executive officer."

Refusing to be drawn on questions concerning his whereabouts over the last four years, Luthor would only claim that his period out of the spotlight was a "special and sacred experience." One that he felt would be sullied by a public discussion.

So why come back at all?

"I'm ready for the next chapter," he said. "No matter the experiences I've gained elsewhere, Metropolis is my true home, and this is where I have to be. Now, more than ever."

Story Continues 

**Related Stories**

Profile – Lex Luthor

LexCorp Stock Up 17 Points

Tess Carmichael – Is She Businesses Hottest Property?

**Daily Planet Online – Regular Features**

**NEWS**

**SPORTS**

**COMMENT**

**CULTURE**

**BUSINESS**

**MONEY**

**LIFE STYLE**

**TRAVEL**

**ENVIRONMENT**

**BLOGS**

* * *

**Superman Watch!**

**The Man of Steel was spotted in Venezuela **yesterday. The local authorities confirmed Superman had come to the rescue of stranded oil workers, after heavy storms in the Caribbean Sea had capsized their oilrig.

* * *

**Daily Planet Duo Marry! **

**Cat Grant, society editor **

**The **_**Daily Planet's**_** own award winning journalist and star reporter**, Lois Lane, is stepping down the aisle today with fellow journalist and _Daily Planet_ staff member, Clark Kent.

The writing partners are marrying in a private ceremony in Smallville, Clark Kent's hometown.

The couple, who already live together, and have been dating since 2010, are said to be, "Excited, thrilled and a little nervous," at the prospect of spending the rest of their lives together.

The _Daily Planet_ wishes to extend to the happy couple, its own hearty congratulations on the upcoming nuptials.

* * *

**Ramirez Out for the Season!**

**Baseball Star breaks ankle in "freak" accident**

Hector Ramirez, the Metropolis Meteors power-hitting shortstop has been ruled out of action for the rest of the season after breaking his ankle in training.

The Meteors' Coach, Chuck Engelhard, described Ramirez's injury as a "tragedy," and real blow to their pennant hopes.

Story Continues 

Ramirez – Career in Pictures

Watch Ramirez Injury

* * *

**End of Part One**

… _**to be continued …**_

_If anyone is reading this story, a little feedback would be appreciated. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Two – Into the Abyss**

**Chapter Eight**

Clark awoke to the comforting smells of a farmhouse breakfast: bacon, pancakes, eggs, toast and coffee. He smiled sleepily and burrowed further under the duvet, nuzzling his face against the dark tresses of his sleeping wife's hair.

He loved waking up this way; to the quiet of the farm in Smallville; the smell of home cooking; the feel of Lois' soft curves against his skin and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

He reached out, with his heightened senses, to listen to the sounds of the farm coming to life.

"… _Do you really think they'd appreciate the intrusion, Master Bruce? I know that Ms Lane's activities seemed to have been quite challenging, and by your own account, Mr Kent also endured a gruelling day, yesterday." _

"_I can't help it if Clark feels obligated to fly out to California and play hero every time Ollie Queen yells fire."_

"_Clearly, sir. It's obvious that saving people from burning to death in their own homes couldn't possibly trump the destruction of a drug smuggling operation. After all, it's not every day you get to do that, now, do you?"_

"_What would you have me do, Alfred; beat at a forest fire with the wings of my costume?"_

"_You've attempted more bizarre rescues, Master Bruce."_

Those voices clearly didn't belong on a farm, and the enticing smells that had been teasing the edge of Clark's senses since he'd woken up, had nothing to do with his mother's cooking.

He opened his eyes and raised his head slowly to take in their surroundings. It didn't take long to reacquaint himself with the opulence of the guest room they were currently occupying.

The large, four-poster, open canopied bed he and Lois shared was the centre-piece of the room, while an antique full-length mirror stood in one corner, and aged mahogany furniture peppered the remainder of the large bedroom in various other corners and nooks.

The sarcastic banter he could hear coming from downstairs, between master and manservant, reminded him that they were guests at Wayne Manor, home of their close acquaintance, Bruce Wayne.

It had been Lois' idea to spend the weekend in Gotham.

She'd been running down leads on the reclusive Russian oil billionaire, Satirev Tenralk. The man was a complete enigma, refusing all invitations to public appearances and interviews, preferring to do his talking through representatives or media spokespeople. The _Daily Planet_ archives had yet to unearth a single picture of Tenralk, and even Jimmy was unable to find any images through his sources at the AP or at any Reuters' news desks and archives around the globe.

Undeterred by Tenralk's no interview and no pictures policy restrictions, Lois saw her chance for an exclusive when she learned that the Russian was due to fly into Gotham to discuss the purchase of yet another energy company.

According to his wife's research, Tenralk Oil and Gas had been purchasing land, mineral and mining rights all over North America over the past three years, and they'd set their latest sights on Fisk-Haller, the company responsible for thirty-eight percent of the eastern seaboard's geothermal energy production.

Among other things, Lois was curious to know how Tenralk continued to find new sources of bio fuels for his operations, when the world's supply was supposed to be in decline, and the new buzzwords for the industry were supposed to be renewable energy and sustainability.

As far as Lois was concerned, the more mysterious Satirev Tenralk appeared to be, the more she was determined to be the one to unmask and expose him.

Clark knew first-hand that his wife's determination could be downright frightening at times, and he sometimes wondered what lengths she might have gone to, to expose Superman's secret identity, if she hadn't already known he was the man behind the cape.

Although Tenralk was Lois' story, he'd naturally come along for the ride, hoping he could get a few quotes from Bruce, on his latest charitable initiatives, and maybe Superman could show up to lend the Batman a hand in fighting crime for a couple of nights.

It wasn't to be however, as Bruce, who'd agreed to put them up for the weekend, had intercepted an emergency call from the Justice League of America, better known as the JLA.

Oliver had founded the team of super-heroes to fight crime, corporate injustice and all manner of bad guys with evil intentions, anywhere they might be lurking. He'd tried, unsuccessfully, for years to get Clark to join his crime-fighting band, only succeeding in the task a year after Clark had debuted as Superman, and then only on a part-time basis.

Clark had made it perfectly clear to Oliver that his own priorities were to Metropolis and to the world at large, and not as "Ollie's cabana boy," as Lois had euphemistically termed it.

Bruce Wayne's alter ego, Batman, had flat out refused to be a part of the group. For Bruce, nothing came before the safety of Gotham City. He was happy to act as a criminal behavioural consultant from time to time, and he was happy to pass on encrypted communiqués from the JLA to any members geographically located in close proximity, but that was it.

As far as Bruce was concerned, Batman's job was to strike fear into the hearts of Gotham's career criminals. If ordinary citizens feared him too, then his motto was simple: so be it.

Clark felt Lois stir beside him, and she turned within the circle of his warm embrace to throw one of her arms haphazardly, across his chest and neck.

As was her usual morning ritual, when they enjoyed the luxury of actually waking up together, Lois stretched out and rubbed her body erotically against his larger frame, before scattering a series of chaste kisses and licks across his naked chest and nipples.

Clark sighed happily under her leisurely ministrations, gently running his large hands through her tangle of soft, loose, chestnut brown curls. She smelled of peaches and cinnamon and that spicy, sexy, Chanel perfume she liked to wear, the one with the name that constantly eluded him.

He grinned inwardly; _married life was good!_

Lois greeted him with a sultry "Hi, hubby," as she raised her head to his and they shared a good morning kiss.

"Morning, beautiful," Clark returned with a lazy smile of his own.

Pulling away from the their kiss abruptly, Lois sat up straight and began sniffing the air around him.

"Clark, why do you smell like smoke?"

Grinning, Clark pulled Lois back into his arms. "While you were out chasing down your elusive billionaire story, Superman was putting out forest fires in California."

Lois twisted out of his embrace once again. "What? Was anyone hurt, are you hurt?" she asked, frantically, eyeing him for any signs of injury or distress. "Bruce didn't say anything about it."

"A few people suffered smoke inhalation and minor burns, a few broken bones," he responded solemnly. "We were lucky though, no fatalities. And hey," he went on, trying to bring a smile back to his wife's face. "I'm fire-proof, Lo, remember?"

"I know," she said, leaning in to kiss him again. "Doesn't mean I don't worry about you," she shrugged.

Snuggling down together against the sheets they swapped stories of their previous day.

"So, what happened with the Russian; did you force an interview out of him yet?"

Lois shook her head. "He's supposed to be staying at the Hamilton Hotel, but no one there will confirm if he's checked in or not, then I got a tip that he was seen leaving The Bradbury for his meeting with the Fisk-Haller people, but then I find out that _that_ meeting has been moved to some secret location. It's like I'm chasing shadows, Clark," she complained in a rush.

"Nobody is this secretive--well, you know what I mean," Lois continued, pausing only to pat Clark's thigh in an affectionate apology. "I mean, this guy's worse than Luthor, and I don't know about you," she hastily continued, switching subjects with lightning speed. "But what I don't get about Lex is, why come back if you're not prepared to run your own company? I mean he's been back for what, eight, nine months now? What's he really up to?"

"Maybe he really did do some soul-searching, like he said," Clark answered optimistically.

Slapping his thigh and laughing derisively, Lois snorted, "Oh, come on, Smallville, you of all people can't possibly be buying that line of bull he's been handing out. He hasn't changed," she assured him. "He's up to something."

"Lois, Lex hasn't so much as run a red light since he's been back." At Lois' withering stare, Clark gave her an uncomfortable smile. "I'm not saying I trust him, Lo, just that maybe he did learn something in his years away."

Lois shook her head, flipped back the covers and jumped out of bed. "You're incredible, Smallville. After all the things we know he's done, only you would be willing to give him another chance."

"Where are you going?" Clark asked, half leaning out of the bed in a poor attempt at pulling Lois back against the mattress.

"Shower and breakfast. I'm pretty sure our moody host, Bruce, doesn't expect to us to lie around in bed all morning, and besides, I still need my story. Tenralk might still be in town, and if he is, I want my scoop."

Standing at the threshold of their connecting en-suite bathroom Lois asked playfully, "Are you coming?"

"What's in it for me?" he returned, his smile showing more teeth by the second.

Lois raised an eyebrow at him and bit at her bottom lip. "Me," she answered saucily, before darting out of sight with a laugh.

**-8-**

Bruce Wayne eyed the couple warily as they sat opposite him.

Lois was grinning at Clark, who'd grabbed her hand in a desperate clutch when their ride back to Gotham, Bruce's commercial helicopter, hit a small pocket of turbulence and dropped several feet in the air. The Bell 429 quickly steadied itself, but Clark was beginning to look a little green.

Aware that he could hear her over the sounds of the helicopter's engine and its rotor blades, Lois was saying something to Clark.

Bruce compensated for his lack of super-skills and read her lips easily.

"I can't believe you still get freaked out when flying in anything man-made," she'd said. "You're Superman, remember?"

Clark hadn't responded with words but had turned a sheepish grin his wife's way and gave her a shrug of his broad shoulders, as if to say, "I can't help it."

Lois smiled reassuringly at her husband and appeared to give his hand a supporting squeeze. She then reached up and straightened Clark's glasses then smoothed back a lock of his curly hair that had fallen forward into Superman's trademark S-curl.

"Don't worry; I've got you," she mouthed to him.

Clark seemed to visibly relax at his wife's soothing and Bruce scowled in dismay at the man's antics.

Here was the strongest man on the planet, a man who could literally fly to Gotham in seconds, girlishly holding his wife's hand, because he had some weird--and to Bruce's mind, inexplicable--phobia about heights he'd yet to completely overcome.

He'd known the couple for about two years now, Clark having come to Gotham in his Superman guise on the trail of his missing wife--then girlfriend--Lois Lane. Batman had been investigating rumours of a sex traffic operation within the city, and their separate searches had led them to Gotham's self-styled porn magnate, Damon Estorian.

Estorian's sex-slave operation was targeting illegal female immigrants and forcing them into prostitution, before sending them on to several major cities within the Unites States and Canada.

After following a tip to a number of Estorian owned storehouses near Gotham Docks, Batman had begun to take out a few of the sentries Estorian had posted around the series of interconnecting warehouses, when he'd heard panicked screams and shouts coming from within. Dropping the now limp guard he'd rendered unconscious aside, Batman had raced towards the sounds of chaos and encountered the red and blue hero he'd, until then, only read about.

Batman watched as Superman stood in the centre of the warehouse, casually handing off Estorian's lackeys as they attempted to attack him in waves with clubs, guns and knives. Between knocking a henchman over it appeared that Superman was looking for something specific within the run-down depot. He barely glanced at the on-coming thugs, his vision apparently diverted to other, more interesting corners of the depot as his head darted this way and that.

Not one to wait for an invite Batman had leaped in amongst the throng easily sidestepping a thug with a vicious looking blade, and stiff-arming him across the back of his neck.

"This is my town, Superman, and my party. What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he'd demanded while delivering a leg-sweep to another hapless lackey, then followed it up with swift kick to the fallen man's testicles.

"A very good friend of mine's been kidnapped," Superman answered, quickly taking in the bat costume before a man bounced off his chest. "And I believe she's either being held here, or someone here knows where she is."

"And this is your idea of an interrogation?" Batman asked while throwing a punch at an advancing heavy.

"I try not to waste my words," Superman had responded.

"I tend to agree with you on that."

Batman landed a high kick to the heavy's throat. The large man went down quickly, clutching at his throat and gasping for air. Batman was quickly behind the injured thug, grabbing him around his injured throat with his forearm before squeezing him with it.

"Talk!" Batman demanded.

"What the hell are you doing?" Superman shouted in horror as several advancing thugs stopped in their tracks, and began to retreat at the sight of the Batman torturing their buddy.

Ignoring Superman's question, Batman continued to squeeze, what little air remained, from the lackey's throat. "You said you're here to find someone, big guy, so let's see what he knows… what they all know. Who are you trying to find?" he directed at Superman.

Superman hesitated for a few seconds before quietly murmuring, "Lois Lane."

Easing the pressure slightly around the henchman's throat, Batman grabbed at his hair with his free hand and shook him. "Lois Lane; where is she, pork-chop?"

The henchman sputtered and struggled as he tried to take halting breaths.

"Cough it up, big boy," Batman cruelly urged.

"M… mm… main… of… office … war … ware … house three," he was finally able to gasp.

By the time Batman had let the battered man slump to the ground in exhaustion, Superman had disappeared in a streak of blue and red.

Not appreciating Superman's lack of gratitude or his quick exit, Batman reached into his utility belt, withdrawing and quickly operating a net-like device that shot out and encompassed those thugs still standing around, appearing half in terror, half in awe. The toughened material of the net gave them no chance of escape and would hold them until either the police came or Batman released them.

Satisfied with his work, Batman activated a cable from the arm of his suit, firing it into the rafters of the warehouse, and using it to haul himself off of the ground, swinging up and across the buildings to his destination: warehouse 3.

Arriving a few minutes behind Superman, Batman was surprised to find that not only had the alien quickly subdued a number of thugs, but he'd also had time to free his friend and had hog-tied and gagged Damon Estorian.

"Nice work," he grudgingly admitted.

"Thanks," replied a smug sounding woman.

Batman gave the lady standing next to Superman an appraising stare; she was taller than the average female, attractive, with shoulder length brown hair that was streaked with a little blond. To Batman's trained eye she appeared to be athletically well toned too. She stood with her hands on her hips and blew errant hair away from her face and hazel eyes.

"I was under the impression you were in some sort of danger," Batman enquired casually.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle," she answered brightly.

"I take it you're Lois Lane?"

"That's me. I'm an investigative journalist for the _Daily Planet_." Taking a step toward the costumed crusader she offered her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Batman."

Batman took her hand in an old fashioned caress, raising it to his lips and kissing the back of it chastely. "Likewise. I've read your work, Miss Lane. Consider me a fan," he charmed, releasing her hand slowly.

"I can't say I'm all for your methods, but maybe you have time for an interview?" Lois wanted to know.

Batman could easily see how Lois had garnered the status of _very good friend_ to Superman. Her confidence and self-assured stance was incredibly appealing.

"Sure," Batman agreed, instantly smitten with the woman. "Can we ditch your chaperone though?" he joked, indicating Superman with a jerk of his thumb.

Lois sighed. "Well he's kind of a friend of mine, and I'm hoping he'll give me a ride back to Metropolis, once we open up the cells in the basement under here. Estorian's got about twenty young women and girls down there, and I promised I'd get them all out," she insisted. "Over there," she indicated a metal filing cabinet, "are details of his clients in Canada, New York, Gotham and Central City."

"I'm impressed, Miss Lane. Very nice work," Batman complimented her.

"Umm, maybe you should see about helping those women out of the cells Miss Lane mentioned?" Superman irritably suggested.

"Why don't you see to it, big guy," Batman responded smoothly.

"I thought this was _your_ town and _your_ party," Superman quoted back at him, his posture stiff and his arms crossed over his chest.

Batman laughed softly. "Don't leave town just yet, Miss Lane. I'll be back shortly," he promised.

He left the messy office and the pathetic looking Estorian, but not before he spared the lovely Miss Lane with a parting look, only to find an angry looking Superman whispering heatedly to her. Batman paused briefly to read his lips.

"Lois, did you even notice I was in the same room? 'Cause I can't believe you were flirting with Batman!"

What a jerk, thought Bruce.

"That's not flirting," he saw Lois was whisper back. "That's called networking and making new contacts."

Bruce chuckled at her witty rejoinder.

No wonder Superman considered Lois his _very good friend, _and from the looks of things, that descriptor barely scratched the surface of their relationship, he crudely surmised.

**-8-**

Bruce pushed thoughts of their first meeting aside. They'd all learned a lot about each other since then, even if they didn't always agree on principles or morality.

Their relationship wasn't what he'd describe as close. He respected Lois and Clark for their integrity as reporters, but he sometimes found it harder to be understanding of Superman's softly-softly methods, when a good dose of his super-strength and the application of some physical pain would do.

Despite what Bruce considered Superman's weaknesses he and Batman had worked well together more than once, and probably would again.

Besides, Lois always made any trip Superman made to Gotham as Clark Kent, too delightful not to appreciate and savour.

_Too bad she was nuts about the guy._

"Hey, Bruce, I wanted to ask you something?" Lois shouted over the din of the helicopter's engines.

"What do you need?" he shouted back.

"I'm doing a side piece to my Tenralk story--once I track down the slippery little snake down," she explained.

"Okay."

"I wanted to know if you consider business aviation to be a tool to power global economic growth? Or do you think it's indulgent and un-environmental?"

An amused Bruce shook his head and answered, "You're asking me this while you enjoy being whisked back to Gotham in a helicopter?"

From next to his wife, Clark badgered, "Answer the question, Bruce."

Shrugging, Bruce answered, "Business aviation is, unfortunately, a necessary indulgence for people like myself, and it also happens to power global economic growth."

"What about the environment?" Lois questioned.

"What can I say? I feel bad about it, but there are only so many trees the Mayor of Gotham will allow me to plant. What's a guy to do?"

"That's a quote that'll go down well," Lois sarcastically suggested.

"Seriously, Lois, I do have a number of initiatives in development to curb de-forestation, green house gasses, and other dangerous emissions, but these projects take time, and very few people out there, with real money and power, are willing to be a part of it."

Bruce felt the chopper begin its descent. "This is your stop, guys. I have a meeting on the other side of the city, so we're flying on. There's a driver waiting for you on the ground floor; she knows this city better than I do, so wherever you need to go, Ashley will get you there by the quickest possible route."

"Thanks, Bruce, we really appreciate this."

"No problem, Kent. Just do me one favour though, okay? Try and keep Lois out of trouble."

"I feel like I've spent most of my life doing that," Clark quipped.

"Hey," Lois objected, scowling at both men. "I'm plenty capable of taking care of myself," she argued.

"Yes, Lois," Clark and Bruce answered in unison.

"Your environmental initiatives, Bruce; any chance I can see proof of that before we leave Gotham?" Lois asked, instantly switching her tone from playfully indignant to award winning journalist.

Bruce immediately reached into the jacket of his expensively tailored business suit and withdrew his cell phone. "Sure, Lois. I'll have a copy of the Wayne Environment Action plan waiting for you when you get down to reception," he assured her while selecting a number on his speed dial.

The 'copter landed smoothly, despite the light rain that was falling, on the helipad of Wayne Tower. Clark opened the aircraft's door and quickly jumped out, turning to offer a balancing hand to his wife as she stepped off.

"Come look us up in Metropolis some time," Lois urged as she waved goodbye to Bruce.

"Sure, and good luck chasing your story," he smiled, before offering a small wave and sliding the door shut. Within moments he was airborne again and looking down on Lois and Clark's receding figures.

He'd see them again in a few months, no doubt, either chasing down another of their crazy stories or for some other hair-brained reason.

Strange as it seemed, when he allowed himself to think about it, he was actually looking forward to it.

… _**to be continued …**_

_Feedback would be appreciated, so please leave a few words of encouragement or constructive criticism. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Two – Into the Abyss**

**Chapter Nine**

The LexCorp helicopter landed gracefully onto the frozen lawn within the large rural estate. As the 'copter's blades slowed to a standstill, two well-dressed men jogged towards the small aircraft. They slid open the passenger door and assisted its lone occupant out of the aircraft.

Tess Carmichael paused momentarily to adjust her dark glasses and the knee-length wool and cashmere overcoat she wore. It was frightening to realise just how far the temperature could drop in this part of the country. Even though spring was upon them, the late thaw--so typical of rural areas-- made her long for the over-cooked atmosphere of a city like New York or even Metropolis, she mused.

Acknowledging the men with a nod of her head, she followed them as they led her across the estate's snow covered grounds. The three-inch heels of her boots crunched hard against the thick snow until they reached a cleared gravel path that lead up to the imported Scottish slate and stone walls of the Luthor mansion.

She'd only been here once before, years ago, when she'd first arrived in Metropolis. Back then she'd overseen the inventory and storage of a number of Lex's rare and delicate items.

Entering the mansion Tess quickly removed her dark glasses. The sharp contrast from bright, frosty afternoon to the darkened manor's interior was jarring. She removed her coat and handed it to one of the men who'd accompanied her inside.

"This way, Ms Carmichael. He's waiting for you in the library," another nameless man indicated, and she followed him down the long wood panelled hall.

**-8-**

The impressive two-story library struck Tess as lifeless and cold. The many shelves that at one time or another must have held thousands of rare books, first editions and other significant tomes, now stood bare, devoid of any literature.

She took a sip of the gin and club soda that Lex had met her with upon entry. With his back to her she watched as Lex prowled the large space around them, his fingers stroking across lonely wooden panels and shelves. He would pause at odd moments, as if lost in thought, perhaps recovering long forgotten memories, but he'd move on again quickly, banishing whatever emotions that threatened to surface behind a dismissive smile, or perhaps, Tess considered, it was a barely contained snarl. She felt she knew Lex well enough now to make that assessment of him.

Since Lex's high-profile return to Metropolis they'd developed a routine of getting together every few weeks to discuss LexCorp's expanding business empire's portfolio. Although she had to admit that this particular meeting hadn't been scheduled, her pilot had simply informed her that Mr. Luthor had required her presence.

As the corporation's acting CEO, Tess had initiated the development of a number of business ventures, including the creation of LexLand, the company's property development venture which now owned the city's newest and most fashionable hotel, The Alexander.

LexLand acquisitions were not confined to the United States, as Tess had also brokered deals that included developing prime real estate in many diverse locations across the globe, from London to Dubai, and from Sydney to Buenos Aires.

LexTec was the organisation's software and computing arm with its emphasis on targeting media related software applications. LexCorp analysts were projecting that within three-years LexTec would be the market leader in its field; with every news gathering organisation, every film or televisual company across the developed world, using equipment powered by the revolutionary and patented LexTec LTC-01 processor microchip.

The LTC-01, more commonly referred to within-house as the LexTec 'chip, had been designed and developed in secrecy to work almost like a virus; crippling and transforming any media specific applications around it into non-responsive programs, before grafting a new matrix onto its existing programming that could then work exclusively and seamlessly with other LexTec products.

Tess had recalled sharing a joke over a secured phone line with Lex about the prototypes they'd developed and how they'd managed to, "Beat Gates at his own game."

Lex had also fully endorsed Tess' ideas when she'd suggested that LexFoods become the natural successor to LuthorCorps' agricultural roots. LexFoods would become the global market leader by not only continuing to stimulate the growth of grain and crops in the developing world, but it would be responsible for producing and developing those foodstuffs -- effectively feeding the world and covertly influencing the diets of millions by infusing them with an addictive additives, designed to be untraceable to all world food and health organisations.

And so the list went on.

Unsure as to why Lex would divert her scheduled meeting in Central City to bring her to Smallville she half joked; "When are you going to put this place on the market, Lex? I'm sure LexLand could find a number of prospective buyers for you."

Lex had his body turned away from her, his body language not portraying he'd heard any part of her question. After another minute he casually turned and made his way across the floor to a large, flat mahogany desk, flanked on all sides by high-backed leather chairs. It was the only furniture in the room, and it seemed to be serving as a bar as well as a desk.

Lex stood to one side and poured himself a shot of whiskey from an ornate crystal decanter that sat between a bucket of ice, a fresh whisky glass, a bottle of gin and a half-opened bottle of club soda.

Tess watched in silence as Lex tossed a couple of ice cubes into the glass after the whiskey.

Perhaps this wasn't a "business" meeting after all.

Maybe this was the point, she mused, that Lex decided he was ready to come back and run LexCorp full-time. Maybe this whole mystery detour was his unique way of conducting an exit interview. After all, she knew this ride wouldn't go on forever, and after tasting life in the big chair; as a head of a multinational organisation, she could never go back to being just another LexCorp Director.

"This is one home I don't know if I'll ever be ready to sell," Lex confessed suddenly. He offered Tess a tight smile as he raised his glass in acknowledgment before taking a drink.

So, he had heard her.

"I learned a lot about life, right here in this room," he went on. "I learned about friendship and loyalty and betrayal."

Slowly Tess approached the desk and slid her glass along the surface, she turned to face him, her hands resting determinedly on her hips.

"Is this your way of telling me I'm out?" she demanded. "I always knew you'd want to come back and pick up from where you left off, Lex, but like this? I did everything you asked of me, and more. I believed in you and I believed in this company, I still do—"

"Have you been watching him?" Lex casually interrupted Tess' passionate tirade.

"You… I … what?"

"I'm sure at some stage we'll have the conversation you were alluding to, but we're not there just yet," Lex said dismissively. "I gave you full autonomy and access to a very important project, Tess, and right now I need to know its status. Have you been watching him?" he repeated.

Tess struggled to compose herself for a moment, caught off guard by the combination of Lex's impromptu meeting and his unusually difficult demeanour.

"Yea … yes," she stammered.

"And?"

"We're ready to go to phase three," Tess responded smoothly, finally able to fully compose herself. "We're a go whenever you're ready."

"Where's the latest report?"

Tess removed a small, thin, compact hand-held device from a subtle pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt and tapped in a series of commands. "I've just encrypted and uploaded the latest surveillance to your organiser."

Sliding a similar device to the one Tess had used out of his jacket pocket he thumbed the device to life before concentrating on the small screen for a few minutes, nodding his head in approval.

"Almost time," he whispered. He raised his head sharply and pierced Tess with a demanding and unsettling look. "What time is it?" he demanded.

Tess blinked and checked her gold Rolex watch. "It's 4:30."

"I have a plane to catch," he said suddenly. "I want you to go to phase three in exactly seventy-two hours. Understood?"

"Seventy-two hours; of course."

"Walk out with me," he said, striding towards the door. Tess dutifully followed. Along the hallway one of Lex' guards appeared, holding out an overcoat, Lex took it and smoothly slid it over his shoulders.

"I've been impressed with you, Tess," Lex said, turning to give her the first genuine smile she'd seen from him since she'd arrived. "Your loyalty and commitment have been outstanding. I won't forget your efforts."

And as quickly as that, Lex was making his way outside and along the gravel path, the helicopter Tess had arrived in, whirring to life, it's rotors picking up speed as Lex dropped to a crouch before climbing inside.

"We're bringing a car around for you now, Ms. Carmichael," the guard shouted over the rising aircraft. "It'll take you back to Metropolis."

"I have a meeting in Central City," she clarified, hugging her arms around herself against the cold while she watched the aircraft pull back and up before turning into the eastern sky.

"Mr. Luthor's rescheduled that meeting for you, Ma'am," the hulking aide instructed. Another guard approached them, this one carrying what appeared to be Tess' coat.

"Mr. Luthor said you have some urgent business to attend to in the city."

Yes, Tess mused, Lex would definitely want her to handle this next phase personally. And if he'd already made arrangements for her return, then wasn't he already aware of where the project stood? Had this been some sort of test or game?

Either way, he'd seemed to be pleased with the answers, so that had to be a good thing, right?

A little bit of the tension she'd been feeling began to ease its way out from across her tight shoulders and she found herself relieved and pleased that she had, A) put a smile back on Lex's face, and B) had retained the title of LexCorp's CEO.

As she accepted her coat from the other guard and slid her shapely legs into the newly arrived limousine, Tess was hard pressed to decide which feat had pleased her more.

**-8-**

Lex couldn't wait for the short flight to his fuelled and waiting private jet to be over. He rubbed lightly at his erection through the cotton and wool mix fabric of his trousers. He was so close now to achieving his aim that he found it almost impossible not to grope himself, and it had been years since he'd experienced this sort of excitement.

However, it wasn't time to celebrate, not yet, but perhaps he could take the edge off a little. He quickly made a phone call.

"Have a model waiting for me when I arrive," he coldly instructed before making a second call. "Ramp up the power outage on the plant. Move it from level 3 to level 5 … yes, I'm aware of that … no, we won't. Bring the teams in and await further instructions … Oh, really? … I wouldn't worry about that. Yes. Now, make it happen."

**-8-**

**07:55 AM - 56 Hours and 35 minutes to Phase 3**

"Honey, hurry up in the bathroom, we're going to be late."

Clark drained the cup of coffee he'd been drinking before placing the mug into the kitchen sink. He fidgeted with his shirt collar and tie before scanning the bathroom again, situated on the upstairs level of their comfortably sized three-bedroom apartment, a wedding gift from Oliver Queen.

The apartment was part of an 18-story luxury apartment complex, owned by Oliver's Queen Industries.

Oliver had insisted that they accept this particular apartment as a wedding gift for a number of reasons; the large secluded balcony off the main living room, which afforded Superman the privacy of arriving or leaving home without the added fear of prying eyes; a large fourth bedroom, which Ollie had generously converted for them into an office/library space, big enough for two spacious desks and a giant flat screen TV that hung on the wall simultaneously broadcasting all the major news channels from around the world on a picture-in-picture application.

There were his and her walk-in closets fitted in the master bedroom and Ollie had been sure to provide Clark with enough room so that he could create a false space behind his regular suits, to hide his Superman persona costumes if he so desired.

Clark and Lois' combined annual incomes wouldn't even have gotten them a viewing in this part of the fashionable New Troy area, but as close friends of the philanthropic billionaire the rent on such a large, fully modernised, wireless enabled and custom ready apartment, was--without question--also scandalously cheap.

There was no way to turn down such a generous gift or ever thank Ollie enough for his generosity.

"Lois, you look beautiful already, now come on," he shouted up to her.

He was using his X-ray vision to watch Lois while she applied her lipstick and primped at her hair. "We have a staff meeting this morning, remember?" Clark continued to urge impatiently.

His wife shot back an irritable and loud, "Hold your horses."

Clark smiled to himself as he watched Lois emerge from the bathroom fully dressed and at a run. She used her momentum to slide her stocking clad feet across the parquet floor of their bedroom, coming to rest by the foot of their king sized bed.

"Where the hell are my shoes?" he heard her mutter from above.

Giving the large living area of their apartment a quick scan, he spotted the heeled pair of pumps his wife favoured for work. "Lo, they're down here," he shouted up to her obligingly.

Collecting his jacket from the back of their burgundy leather couch he slipped into it before retrieving the shoes in question and brought them to the foot of the stairs, where he met her as she made her way down breathlessly.

"Thanks," she said, grabbing the heels from him and slipping one on, before hopping and hobbling her way into the kitchen.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what she was after and Clark beat her to it. Super-speeding ahead of her to fix her a mug of coffee, just the way she liked it.

It was under her nose before she'd made it to the kitchen island.

Lois took a sip from the offered mug and nearly swooned. "Ummmm," she sighed dreamily, her eyes closing as the caffeine brought her slowly to full consciousness.

"Better?" Clark teased beside her.

"Much," she agreed with a long moan before taking another sip.

"Here," Clark said, lifting her easily and setting her atop the island before reaching for the shoe she still held in her right hand.

"I can do that," she protested.

"You always say that," he rumbled playfully. "Let me," he offered, kissing her nose. "You drink your coffee."

He bent and squatted back on his thighs, taking his time to ease her left foot into the shoe, taking time to caress her ankle, calf and her ticklish foot-bottom through the stretch nylon of her stocking.

"I thought we were running late," she reminded him with a giggle and a seductive smile.

"We've still got a few minutes," he said, his eyes full of amusement.

"Minutes?" Lois questioned, her demeanour changing instantly from playful to frustrated. "Nu-uh, Smallville! Enough of the stolen moments already; I need more than some heavy petting in a storage closet and a few kisses over coffee," she argued dejectedly.

He hung his head and moaned out an aggravated, "I know." His own mood instantly sobered.

Even when they experienced a slow news week in Metropolis, Superman was still needed elsewhere around the globe. There was never enough time for just the two of them and it had been weeks since they'd been able to make love the way they both wanted to.

They'd both been forced to subsist on too many rushed and fumbling hand jobs while rushing between hectic work schedules and having to divert disasters—literally. There never seemed to be enough time to indulge in the erotic pleasuring of each other.

And if it was already bad for him, Clark wondered how his very tactile and passionate wife was able to reign in her own needs during such a mutually unwanted "dry spell."

"Maybe we can get away this weekend," he suggested. "Visit Mom on the farm or maybe … you know, spend a day … at the … Fortress?" he finished hopefully, a bashful little grin lighting his features.

At his suggestion Clark immediately heard Lois' heartbeat speed up. He moved in closer to her, sliding her skirt up a little to stand between her spread thighs, brushing them softly with his fingertips.

She slid her empty coffee mug across the counter to reach up and, resting her arms on his broad shoulders, she threaded her fingers through the thick, dark hair at his nape to agree seductively with his suggestion, and biting her lower lip in that way she did that made his blood rush instantly south to Clark Jr, Lois purred, "The Fortress sounds nice."

"A weekend away it is, then," she agreed, leaning up to share a series of soft, wet, kisses that managed to be both affectionate and restrained.

_Quality time together was just a few days away, Clark reminded himself._

They broke the kiss, sharing mutual looks of hunger and erotic anticipation before Lois gently, but deliberately pushed at his chest to create a little distance before sliding off the kitchen island. After adjusting her skirt she grabbed a reluctant Clark by the cuff of his jacket and marched them off towards the front door of their apartment.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Smallville. Now, come on, we don't want to be late," she prompted, stopping to grab her coat and throw her leather messenger bag across her shoulder.

"Glasses," she reminded him, bending to quickly retrieve Clark's spectacles from the nearby coffee table.

"What would I do without you?" he murmured teasingly, easing the glasses into place across the bridge of his nose and noticing that she'd managed to get her heartbeat back under some control. His slowly declining erection was still coming to terms with having to wait for what it craved more than anything; Lois.

His wife smirked and shrugged, "I don't know, but I'm betting it wouldn't be pretty," she joked, dragging him by the arm again as they made there way out of the apartment.

Clark paused as they stepped out into the hallway of their apartment building.

Lois looked up at his pensive expression. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"I'm not sure," he said, his voice barely above a whisper while he tried to concentrate on what had grabbed his attention. "Crying… moaning … sounds like twisted metal against--" His eyes snapped to Lois' in horror. "Highway pile-up."

"Clark, go!" Lois urged.

In a moment he had disappeared from her sight, the speed of his departure whipping Lois' shoulder length hair around her shoulders and face.

He didn't have to ask her if she would cover for him at work; he knew that she would. And he'd never had to ask her permission to save somebody's life or help someone in need; he knew she felt the same way about helping people as he did.

He could catch a falling plane; stop an out of control 18-wheeler, or a raging building or forest fire.

Lois helped people by writing--highlighting injustice and corruption, exposing fraudsters, thieves, liars and murderers--a pen and her hard-drive her only weapons against those she helped to bring to justice.

Clark often wondered if he would have shared his wife's bravery without his powers and virtual invincibility.

"Go, Smallville."

Her proudly whispered words, into the empty hallway of their apartment building wouldn't have been heard by anyone else, but he heard it. And those two simple words buoyed him up and sustained him throughout the long, gruelling and sometimes agonising task of pulling the dead, dying and badly injured from the shredded metal, gore and blood covered wreckage that met him on a rain slickened interstate highway.

**-8-**

**17:37 PM - 46 Hours and 53 minutes to Phase 3**

"Olsen!" Perry White bellowed out from the open door of his office.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Where are those pictures I asked for?"

"Which ones, Chief? Superman pulling survivors out of that four lane pile-up this morning, or those pictures I got of Mayor Halloran slipping on a cow pile during the 'Fair Rights for Farmers' rally, this afternoon?"

"Both!" the _Daily Planet_ editor-in-chief gruffly demanded.

"Ah, they're in your office, Mr. White. I put the proofs on your desk about an hour ago," Jimmy sheepishly explained.

"Then why the hell wasn't I told?" Perry complained.

"I think you were in a meeting with Mr. Stern?" Jimmy supplied carefully.

"I have a newspaper to run," Perry grumbled to himself as he turned back towards his office. "But instead I get caught up in meetings and web enabled conference calls, and marketing strategies," he continued to complain.

Jimmy watched his editor retreat back into his office, still muttering and cursing the ills of corporate shenanigans in the newspaper business. Pulling a palm sized photo out of his jacket pocket Jimmy quickly made his way over to Lois Lane's desk, seating himself comfortably on the edge.

He couldn't help but grin as he gazed down at his mentor, friend and work colleague expectantly.

"What is it, Jimmy?"

Lois didn't even look up; too busy typing up her latest story, her eyes moving between her note pad, her keyboard and her computer monitor.

Leaning in a little closer he eagerly whispered, "I think I found you something."

Lois continued to type. "Uh huh," she barely acknowledged.

"I'm serious, Lois. I think I really got my mojo working for ya'."

"What have you got?" she asked disinterestedly, her fingers pausing from their work over her keyboard to turn to another page on her notebook.

Jimmy showed her a small photo. "Look at this!" he said excitedly.

Lois studied the image for a few moments before spearing Jimmy with a completely dismissive arch of her eyebrows.

Ignoring her sceptical expression Jimmy continued undeterred. "Remember I told you about my source; who works at the World Image Archives in Paris?"

"The guy you shared an apartment with a couple of years ago, who moved to France?"

"Yeah--yeah, Jamahl Christie," he confirmed.

"So, what about him?" Lois returned to typing her article.

"Well, this is--"

"Lane!" The door to the Editor-in-Chief's office opened on Perry's booming voice. "Where's that story on the Queensland Park strangler you promised me this morning?"

"It's coming, Chief," Lois responded to the call. "Give me thirty more minutes."

"You've got ten!"

"Oh, Chief, come on! It's another Lane and Kent exclusive."

"Fine, you've got fifteen—and that's all!" Perry stepped back into his office, but paused at the threshold to turn back and cast his experienced journalistic eye around the still busy newsroom.

"Where's Kent?" he demanded.

"Umm," Lois hesitated.

"Right here, Chief," Clark responded, striding in through the newsroom's massive double doors. "I went out for food. Lois was hungry," he explained, lifting his arms to show off the fast-food packages he was carrying.

"Ooh, Chili-dogs," Lois enthused.

"With onions and extra sauce," Clark added with a grin.

"Well, hey, hubby's learning," Lois boasted proudly, taking the offered bag from her mate and instantly tearing into it.

"And I have a Tuna salad on wholegrain with no mayo for you, Chief." Clark rounded his desk to hand the sandwich off to his dumbfounded looking boss.

"Jimmy," Clark said, tossing another bag to the photographer. "Cheese burger and fries, with extra pickles."

"Thanks, C.K."

"Buying me food doesn't mean you get a by on this story you two. I still expect to see it on my desk in thirty-minutes," Perry stated sternly.

Lois shared a look with Clark, both of them knowing full well that Perry White, the gruff, exacting and highly demanding Editor-in-Chief of one of the world's most prestigious news publications was giving them just that.

"Yes, Chief," Lois answered contritely around a bite of her food.

The news editor returned to his office, but not before an exasperated, "Will you people stop calling me Chief!"

Taking a seat at his desk Clark rolled his chair up to Lois' and reached into the bag he'd given her, removing a Chili hot-dog for himself. He bit into his food and wheeled his chair around, Jimmy instantly moving aside to let him in, as he began reading what Lois had typed up so far of their article.

"So, Lois, about that picture …" Jimmy reminded her.

"Sorry, Jimmy, we've got to get this story out," Lois explained before taking another bite of her hot-dog. "Rain check?"

Clark leaned in across Lois and her keyboard, half-eaten food in one hand and his free hand on the PC's wireless mouse. " 'Evidence found at several murder scenes in connection with the case, that had remained undisclosed by the Police Department until now, linked Arthur Robson, a City Transit Officer, with the murders,' " he read aloud. "Did Detective Sawyer really confirm we could use this?" he turned to his wife and asked.

"Well, it's true isn't it?"

"Lois, we don't want to blow the police's day in court by saying too much now, and Maggie will kill us, especially if we name her," Clark argued.

"Okay, so maybe Sawyer didn't exactly give me carte-blanche on the details, but it's not as if we're shooting in the dark here, we know the evidence is a lock."

"Lois," Clark growled in exasperation.

"Umm, sure" Jimmy responded to Lois' earlier suggestion before silently stepping away from the arguing couple. They weren't listening to him anymore anyway.

There were very few things that came between Lane and Kent when they were deep into a story, he knew. They'd argue back and forth until one of them relented, or a compromise of some kind was reached, not an easy task with someone as stubborn as Lois Lane, though if anyone could get her to compromise or re-evaluate a situation it was Clark.

Jimmy had headed up plenty of betting pools over the years, on whom, between the two, would win what argument; or get a coffee refill; or break office protocol to sneak a kiss.

His own personal favourite was: how many times would Clark need to leave the office or a work event in any given week to attend to some last minute emergency at home, or at his dentist, his dry-cleaning or the parking meter around the corner from the building, even though the couple had earned themselves a free parking spot in the basement of the Planet in the last year.

With his un-eaten burger still in its bag, Jimmy slowly made his way back to his own desk in the imaging suite a few floors below.

He solemnly looked down at the picture he still held in his hand. The image was blurry and grainy, featuring an indistinctive male Caucasian dressed in dark clothes, his right hand raised up and over his head, as if to protect him from the rain beating down in the picture.

If his friend in France was right, then Jimmy was staring at the only confirmed picture of the elusive and mysterious Russian Billionaire, "Satirev Tenralk."

Jimmy murmured the name aloud before secreting the picture back into his shirt pocket.

**-8-**

**21:15 PM – 44 Hours and 15 minutes to Phase 3**

Tess emerged from the basement of the LexCorp tower and exited the building. She decided that a few minutes taking in a little night-air before her limo rolled up to take her home was just what she needed.

Since leaving the Luthor mansion a day earlier she'd buried herself at the laboratories at LexCorp HQ and at a number other covert labs dotted around the State. She'd been cajoling, supervising and directing operations for this crucial next phase, determined that neither she nor her teams would be found lacking when the clock ran down to zero hour.

She heard the toot of a car horn and turned to see that her driver was pulling her limousine up to the building. She began descending the concrete steps from the building's plaza entrance when something across the street caught her attention.

Slowing completely as she reached the chauffer opened door of her ride Tess couldn't help staring.

Across the street she saw two figures emerge hand-in-hand from the _Daily Planet_ building, the reporters Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

They looked like any couple would, out enjoying a walk in the city on a mild spring evening.

"Ms. Carmichael?" her driver prodded.

She ignored him, still staring in fascination at the easy manner the couple shared as they talked and joked.

The woman across the street must have felt her stare, for in another moment Lois had caught her eye, gazing back at Tess with a puzzled expression.

Tess immediately broke eye contact and slid into the back of her limo.

As her driver sped her back to her apartment--a LexLand owned penthouse with its view of the river and the city--Tess smiled grimly.

_The alien and his slut would both get what was coming to them, she vowed silently._

… _**to be continued …**_

_**Author's note:** Apologies for the delay in between chapters, real life (work, bills, dealing with personal crap etc) is no easy thing to deal with sometimes. _

_I have outlined the final "half" of the story, but I don't want to rush into posting anything before it's really ready. And that means there may be a long wait until chapter ten, so apologies in advance._

_Please don't forget to leave feedback if you're enjoying the story, or just have a constructive criticism. I welcome it._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**20:45 PM – 19 Hours and 45 minutes to Phase 3**

Lois put a tray, carrying a large carafe of hot coffee, sweetened to her taste, and her "Superman" mug, to one side before sliding her messenger bag off her shoulder and emptying the contents onto her desk.

She hunted through the mess of her spilled bag for a couple of USB flash drives, which she knew she'd put in there at some point over the last few weeks. Retrieving the slim data files, she cleared the rest of her workspace of any unwanted papers and clutter, before activating a set of deep file draws that rose up from the floor, at the foot of her desk.

Lois grinned wickedly each time she activated the filing cabinet—admiring her husband's versatility with a set of power-tools.

When it came to secret compartments, Clark could out-do Ollie every time. Bruce still trumped them both, of course, but Bruce's paranoia was on a level even her cynicism found hard to stomach.

Leafing through the file headers Lois reached in and found the ones she'd been looking for: Tess Carmichael, Lex Luthor.

Lois always kept her research notes. Even if a story didn't pan out at the time, she'd continue to add whatever new information she came across to the existing files. This method had proven to be invaluable over the years, providing her with key information that had helped her to break stories and inspire fresh angles on old subjects to investigate.

Lois hoped for some of that inspiration now as she pored over her old files and notes.

Perhaps her current investigation was irrational, after all she'd never found anything she could prove about Lex, minus a few misdemeanours his lawyers had always managed to smooth over, and she'd yet to find anything shoddy about Tess Carmichael.

But last night … that looked she'd given them; it had sent icy tendrils of fear down Lois' spine and she couldn't shake the feeling that her instincts were warning her about the woman.

While Lois didn't really subscribe to the touch-feely, six-sense brigade, she did trust her gut, and it was executing quadruple summersaults, badly, every time she recalled Tess' grim expression.

And if Tess were up to something, Lex would have to be too, simple fact as far as she was concerned. She just had to find the connection.

Lois poured herself hot coffee from the carafe and took a sip of the heavenly liquid. The coffee would keep her mind alert while she worked into the night, and the work would keep her mind off of Clark and his nightly patrol. He'd be home in a few hours, she confidently reminded herself, and he'd be fine. He always was.

Pushing the mug across the desk she noticed a Manila, A-4 sized envelope. It had fallen out of her bag earlier, when she's tossed the contents looking for her USB's. She couldn't remember picking it up from the _Planet_, when she'd left work, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd grabbed work papers in haste.

Picking the envelope up she turned it over and instantly recognised Jimmy Olsen's neat script. She opened the package to find a grainy, vaguely familiar picture, not even half the size of the packet and a note from Jimmy, which read:

"_I'm on assignment with Ron, covering Senator Reeve's visit to Brussels. We fly out first thing tomorrow, and I didn't want to forget to pass this on before I left._

_My friend, Jamahl, in the World Image Archives, has confirmed that you are now looking at the __only__ known image of Satirev Tenralk. It's not the greatest candid, but I thought you'd appreciate it._

_See you soon, _

_Jimmy."_

Lois shook her head and smiled. Jimmy, he never let her down. She made a mental note to thank him for the picture when he got back in a day or two. She recognised the picture now, it was the one Jimmy had been trying to get her attention with while she'd been finishing up the Queensland Park Strangler story with Clark.

Jimmy hadn't been kidding, the picture wasn't great at all; in fact it was damn pitiable. Grainy quality with a dark background, outlining the shape of a Caucasian, non-descript male of average build who appeared to be entering a limo during a rain shower.

Considering the quality of the photo, Lois wasn't sure how it could have been verified. She checked her watch, it was too early to be calling Paris, but Lois scribbled a note onto the envelope reminding her to contact Jamahl about the photo. She then texted Jimmy, thanking him for photo and requesting his friend's contact details.

Retrieving the Tenralk file from her cabinet she used a paper clip to pin the picture to the front of the elusive billionaire's file.

Elusive billionaires, she mused, gazing between Tenralk's file and Lex Luthor's.

Ollie and Lex. Ollie and Bruce. Bruce and Lex.

Wouldn't it stand to reason that…?

Why had she never thought to check this simple and obvious fact before?

"Dumb ass!" she berated herself.

**-8-**

**02:10 AM – 14 Hours and 20 minutes to Phase 3**

It would be easy for the average person to believe that with Superman watching over the city, crime in Metropolis would be at an all time low. And while there was no doubting that a significant number of would-be offenders had gone straight or more likely, bee-lined it for a neighbouring city or State--one without a seemingly, indestructible super hero--Clark Kent knew better.

For whatever the number of those that were deterred by Superman's presence, more always popped-up to replace them--like weeds on high-strength fertilizer.

They came from all over, like big-game hunters on the trail of a rare or mythical beast; all looking for the ultimate challenge.

Whether they were meteor powered or Meta-human, criminally insane, supernaturally powered, or just good old-fashioned deviants, they all came looking to enhance and embolden their reputations.

All of them vying with and fighting against each other for one indisputable privilege: to be the first to take down Superman.

Clark could almost equate the cyclical pattern, of the upturn in criminal crazies, with the planting season he was used to on the farm. Not that the winter months weren't busy enough for Superman, but it was as if crime seemed to get a second wind during the Spring and Summer, as if the warmer temperatures and sunnier skies would somehow give evil machinations an edge.

Clark often grinned at the irony.

At least tonight hadn't been so bad, he mused; he'd certainly had much worse evenings.

He'd put out the fire of a burning cargo vessel anchored off Hobb's Bay; saved a middle-aged couple, on their way home after a night out at the theatre, from a mugging by a gang of thugs; scared two youths out of burgling a home in Bakerline with the use of his super-breath and some severe words of warning if they didn't change their ways. After that he'd quickly flown to the aid of two State troopers, who were trapped in their police cruiser, after crashing while in pursuit of a stolen car. And that had just been the last two hours.

A few people may have been bruised and a little banged up tonight, but at least there had been no fatalities, and as far as Clark was concerned that was always a win-win situation.

Deciding Superman had done enough for the night, Clark headed home. The weekend was fast approaching and an early night (for him), would speed up its arrival as he looked forward to a quiet getaway with Lois up north--way north he grinned to himself.

With the anticipation of the weekend and practically a full night of uninterrupted sleep before him, Clark dispensed with his nightly ritual, of flying above the Earth's upper atmosphere to re-charge his solar battery-like-body, before heading for home.

**-8-**

He'd expected to find their apartment in darkness, with Lois tucked up in bed and sleeping. Instead he'd found his wife slumped over her cluttered desk, surrounded by what appeared to be her latest research notes. He quickly scanned them, intrigued and yet not really surprised to find that Lois was still looking into Lex and his business dealings, and the Russian billionaire, Satirev Tenralk.

Prizing her gently apart from her papers, Clark couldn't help smirking indulgently at his wife's unwavering commitment to a story.

Her tenacity and determination had always been a part of his attraction to Lois, it had just taken him years to realise it and even longer to admit it to himself.

It was through her that he'd begun to realise that one person could make a positive difference to the world and to the community they lived in. No super-powers required.

Through her he'd seen the meaning of true courage, how she'd stood up to threats, intimidation and physical violence in order to bring to the city, and as a consequence, to the world at large, justice where there was bias and discrimination.

Everyday she fought to bring some measure of truth to the world, and to rectify the lies and abuses of those in power, wherever she could find them.

All of these attributes contributed to the award winning journalist that she was, but more than anything, it was her unwavering loyalty, passion and commitment to her family and friends, regardless of how they'd ever treated her; it was her faith in tomorrow and the way that she refused to let disappointments and failures blight her incredible spirit or the huge generosity of her heart.

All of this and more was why he loved her, all of this and more was why he never wanted to be parted from her and had said, "Yes," nanoseconds after she'd jokingly asked him to marry her.

A few minutes later Clark eased himself into bed behind the still sleeping and now naked Lois, hugging her close and placing sweet, soft kisses against the inviting skin of her neck. He drew in a breath through his nose, inhaling her scent and relishing the silky feel of her hair against his chin and cheeks. Instinctively he rubbed his bourgeoning erection against Lois' backside. She mewled quietly in her sleep gently moving her ass back up and onto her husband's attentive cock.

Clark sighed, loving the feel of her silky, soft, skin against the length of his own.

Lois moaned, still out of it, sounding like she was enjoying a particularly languid dream, and in doing so, her thighs opened willingly and wide when Clark nudged at them with his own, allowing him to slip a thigh between her legs and slide into her easily.

Lois couldn't help but wake at the feel of her mate. "Ugh … Smallville," Lois breathed out, her voice sleep roughened, yet heavy with desire.

"This okay?" Clark whispered the question thickly against her neck, his body stilling.

"Umm… oh, yeah," she murmured on a delicious sigh. "Missed you."

He'd missed her too. "God, I've missed being inside you," he hissed.

They were supposed to be saving themselves for this weekend, Clark thought fuzzily as they began to make love.

With their chaotic schedules and his never-ending commitments as Superman finding the time to make love fully had been at a premium and they'd been forced into teenage-style groping sessions with the occasional round of oral sex (time permitting) at home or in storage closets at work--when they could stand the enforced lack of intimacies no longer.

Well, he was sick of waiting.

Lois turned her head towards him and they kissed hungrily, lips and teeth clashing. "Don't ever stop," she urged, a hand high up over her shoulder and fixed securely around his neck.

Clearly Lois was sick of waiting too.

"I love you so much."

It had literally been weeks since he'd been inside of her.

He brought her to peak three times before he joined her in bliss, and it was long minutes before their laboured breaths and exhausted, open mouthed, wet, kisses settled into sleepy sighs before they drifted off into a satiated and contented slumber, their limbs still intimately entangled.

**-8-**

**09:48 AM – 6 Hours and 42 minutes to Phase 3**

Lois Lane didn't do "patience" well.

By the time 09:35 AM, CST had rolled around she'd left three voice mail messages and several texts for Jimmy's friend to contact her on her cell phone or at her desk at the Daily Planet, but as yet, she'd heard nothing from him, and clearly the guy wasn't answering his phone or checking his messages.

Lois checked her watch and quickly calculated the time difference. _"C'mon, buddy,"_ she mentally urged. _"It's after four in the afternoon there, already. Pick up your damn phone and call me!"_

Damn it, if she couldn't pester Jimmy's friend about what he knew, who else could she interrogate that might have some useful information?

Lois cast her gaze around the busy office space. Clark, seated across from her, was sipping at a cup of coffee, while he had his phone pressed to his ear, no doubt on hold, she concluded.

Swivelling her chair in slow arc to look further afield, across the bullpen, she spotted the perfect substitute in place of Jimmy's former roommate.

**-8-**

Kim Okuda was the Daily Planet's industrial editor and most senior business journalist. If anyone could give Lois added insight into the comings and goings of LexCorp and Tenralk Oil's dealings, it was the chubby, balding, softly spoken forty year-old.

"What's this about, Lane?" he'd asked in a friendly, but suspicious baritone, when Lois had sidled up to his desk.

Okuda was no fool.

No matter how many beers she and Clark had shared with him and other work colleagues at Oscar's Bar and Grill, they both knew the only reason she was perched on the corner of his desk now, was because she wanted something. Something that maybe Okuda, with his knowledge, would be best placed to follow up.

But Lois had no intention of letting any potential story be wrangled away from her, regardless of how much she respected and liked the man.

She'd have to choose her words and actions carefully.

"You know I've been working background material for Tenralk Oil for a while now, right?"

"Yeah--the whole bullpen heard about that, Lois. What ever happened to that famous exclusive you were going to brings us about him, hmm?" he asked in a challenging tone.

"Thanks for clueing me into what a social animal he is, by the way" she sarcastically deflected. "Besides, you're the business guru, Kim, shouldn't you have had some type of interview with him from way back or … I don't know … an exclusive of your own?" she returned, mockingly.

"Hey, now children, no fighting," Clark's deep voice chuckled, as he approached the other side of Okoda's desk to interrupt their quarrel.

"We weren't fighting," Lois denied, demurely.

Clark arched his eyebrows at her and pursed his lips.

"Well, not much," she continued, slightly chastened.

"Okay, Lane. Lets not break rocks over this," Okuda sighed in resignation. "What _do_ you want?"

"Has LexCorp purchased any Tenralk holdings in the last few years, or vice-versa?" Clark asked casually, forcing Okuda to swivel his chair back towards him.

"According to our research, they must have traded together," Lois quickly continued, regaining Okuda's attention. "But we're having trouble finding the details any sales."

Okuda shrugged his shoulders. "Business transactions are pretty much matters of public record," he said. "They shouldn't be too hard to find."

"Then why are we having trouble uncovering these 'matters of public record'?" Lois questioned.

"What's your angle here, Lane?" Okuda asked, crossing his arms over his barrel chest, the fabric of his shirt sleeves, seeming to strain against the man's flabby bulk.

"There's no angle," Clark stated with a shrug. "We're just padding up on the business profiles we're working on. And given the depth of your business knowledge, I'm pretty sure you can tell us what we've been missing here."

Kim Okuda nodded his head slightly and smiled, acknowledging the compliment. Slowly he uncrossed his arms and swivelled his chair around to face the monitor on his desk. "It's all about knowing where to look," he said smugly, before taking a couple of minutes to access some files on his computer.

"Somebody man that printer," Kim said, pointing to its location a few feet away.

Lois quickly made her way from Kim's desk to the machine, the familiar whir and stuttering that the printer made, just before spilling out its secrets, hurrying her footsteps all the more.

She returned to Okuda's desk in twice the time it took her to leave it, her eyes focusing on the printouts of the scanned business documents she was holding. She stopped next to Clark, handing over the first page to him, while she continued to scrutinise the rest of the material.

"Meehan Labs?" she asked eventually, her head coming up and tilting towards Okuda in inquiry.

"It's a small, experimental technologies, company," Kim answered. "Purchased by Tenralk Oil about three years ago," he concluded, as if that was all he needed to say.

Lois shook her head in confusion, snatching back the page from Clark before re-reading the entire document.

"Wait a minute," she said, her head eventually snapping up to spear Okuda with a blazing glare. "Tess Carmichael authorised and signed off on this sale?"

"That's what it says," Okuda confirmed.

"So, Meehan Labs was her property?" Lois asked, tentatively.

Okuda smiled ruefully at the pair before him. "I thought you guys wrote the book on the Luthor's," he said through a smug grin.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Clark said, as a dawning kind of knowledge began to creep into his voice, raising it slightly. "Meehan Labs. Meehan. I know that name….

Lois watched her husband with interest, watching him focusing inward in an attempt to dredge up whatever it was he thought he knew. Her own mind was racing around the facts of the documents; trying to see the bigger picture; trying to breakdown the document into blocks of relevance.

Meehan Labs was a small, insignificant company, making losses for years before being sold to Tenralk Oil, three years ago.

Tess Carmichael had authorised the sale, but she didn't own the company.

Lois looked through the document again, what was she missing? There!

The second signature authorising the sale of Meehan Labs was of a Fred Bentley.

She smiled inwardly. Fred Bentley—

"Got it!" Clark burst out excitedly, interrupting Lois' train of thought. "Meehan was the last name of Lionel Luthor's mother," he said triumphantly.

"And Fred Bentley," Lois said, pointing to the bottom of one of the pages she held, her tone echoing Clark's excitement, "is a LexCorp board member!"

"Don't get too excited," Okuda warned in a cynical, but patient tone; as if he were trying to temper the excitement of over-eager school kids who'd thought they'd discovered a dinosaur fossil--only to reveal it was a discarded chicken bone.

"Meehan Labs was just an obscure arm of a Luthor subsidiary," he explained.

"Tenralk Oil were looking for U.S. refining facilities at the time, and a loss maker like Meehan Labs fit the bill for one purpose only: it had the square footage Tenralk needed for its processing plant.

"Don't forget that Tenralk made the purchase during a financial credit-crunch," Kim continued. "So their priorities were on developing premises that already met HAZMAT codes and didn't need any significant re-modelling or refurbishment.

"Tenralk's offer for Meehan Labs didn't exactly make a fortune for LexCorp, but with the losses they were making on it, they both got they wanted: a cheap purchase for Tenralk, and a loss making product off of LexCorp's books, the entire deal was no brainer," Kim concluded with a shrug.

Lois and Clark exchanged satisfied smiles and nodded in agreement at Okuda's explanation.

"Thanks, Kim," Clark said, giving the man's shoulder a friendly pat.

"Yeah, first round's on me at Oscar's tonight, okay?" Lois offered, grabbing Clark by the arm and pulling him with her as she walked backwards towards her own desk.

"Sure thing, Lois. I'll come find you guys when I'm ready to leave," Kim promised, waving them off with a smile and a shake of his head.

"Nice save," Lois whispered, so that only Clark could here, as they made their way across the busy newsroom to their desks. "The impromptu double team really worked," she grinned. "Kim normally clams right up when I try to get something out of him on my own. How come you can people to open up so easily?" she asked in genuine admiration.

"It's simple really, Lois. People actually like me," he said with a wink.

"Ha, ha, Smallville," she deadpanned and punched his bicep before returning to a more serious, whispered tone. "How did you know I was looking at a link between Luthor and Tenralk?"

"You had your research notes practically spread out all over the apartment when I got home last night. It was hard to miss," Clark answered, bumping her shoulder lightly as they walked. "Besides," he went on with a grin. "I like saving you."

Lois rolled her eyes at his response, but couldn't help the smile that had her lips twisting into a crooked smirk. "Good thing, too, but it's not as if I don't save your butt often enough," she pretended to grouse.

Clark turned his head to look at her and licked his lips. "You can save me anytime."

Lois gaped at him, before recovering to hit his bicep again. It never failed to shock, amuse and arouse her when Clark slipped a double entendre into a conversation between them. She shook her head in amusement; clearly she was a bad influence on him.

"Did you buy that story?" she whispered, once she'd regained her composure fully. "About Tenralk needing a refinery?"

"It tracks with what we know about the company, but …" Clark trailed off.

"What?"

"Well, the Luthor's aren't exactly known for their familial bonds," he said thoughtfully. "But selling off a company, however poorly it was doing, that was named for his grandmother … I don't know," Clark shrugged, still in thought.

"You think maybe Tess sold it, and Lex doesn't even know?" Lois speculated.

"Maybe. Worth checking out?"

Lois nodded vigorously. "Oh, yeah!"

**-8-**

She pulled their car up to the security gates of the former Meehan Labs, now, apparently, just another of Tenralk Oil's U.S. based refinery's.

"Lois," Clark hissed in a warning tone, as he watched her wind down her window, on the driver's side, to speak to one of the two security guards eyeing them suspiciously.

"Don't sweat it, Smallville, just follow my lead," she returned confidently.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Clark mumbled, releasing his seat belt to lean further forward.

The drive up through the city to its northern, leafier, outskirts had only taken them a little under an hour against the early lunchtime traffic. That and Lois drove like a maniac sometimes. The refinery was located off the old Metropolis North Road highway among a swathe of industrial estates that had seen varying degrees of success over the last few years, since the on-set of the last credit crunch.

"Lois Lane and Clark Kent, Daily Planet," Lois said, holding up her press pass badge for the security officer and indicating Clark with a jerk of her thumb. "We're here to talk to the plant manager," she demanded nonchalantly.

Clark watched as the two armed guards, dressed in dark uniforms, manning the gate exchanged a dubious look before one of them turned away and entered the small booth they obviously shared, set-up as a checkpoint for the facility's main gate. He picked up a clipboard and began to scan it before removing a hand-held receiver from the belt at his hip.

Lois smiled inanely at the guard who continued to keep watch over them. His stare wore the look of man interested in nothing more than hearing that his shift had finally ended.

The sounds of a muted rock chorus coming out of nowhere interrupted the silence. Lois quickly dug around in her purse as the strains of Whitesnake's "Here I go again," increased in volume. She finally pulled her cell phone free and answered the call.

"Yes. This is Lois Lane. Jamahl! Great, just gimme a sec ..." she said, getting out of the car.

"Hold it, lady," the guard watching over them intoned, holding up a stalling hand.

"Bite me, buster, I'm on a call, and I need better reception." Lois didn't give the guard a second look as she wondered around the industrial site's bleak, cracked concrete grounds, attempting to clean up the line for the incoming call.

Clark slowly exited the passenger side of the car. "I need to stretch my legs."

He walked back and forth along the perimeter of the fence line, appearing to stretch his back and legs as he walked. He briefly removed his glasses and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "It sure is getting hotter, huh?" he sighed, loosening his tie and adjusting his shirt collar.

"You guys don't have an appointment," the first guard spoke up, coming out of the checkpoint booth.

Clark checked Lois' position. She had wondered off back towards the highway and appeared to be deep in conversation.

"We didn't know we needed one," Clark responded, pulling a brochure out of his suit jacket. "It says here that tours of the plant are available to the public Monday through Friday." He adjusted his glasses and handed the brochure over to the guard standing closest to him.

The guard at the booth came over to scrutinise the glossy handout. "That thing's out of date."

"The press have a right know if your plant's meeting national and international safety standards, sir. We have a right to be here."

"And in the words of your lady friend over there, four eyes, 'bite me'," the irate guard replied.

Lois meanwhile was deep in discussion with Jimmy's contact in Paris, Jamahl Christie. He'd supplied a source for the Tenralk picture but her follow up questions had only succeeded in deepening the mystery surrounding the man.

According to Jamahl, a Russian business periodical had printed a two-part article on Tenralk Oil, some months after a fatal car crash in 2008 that had resulted in the death of the oil billionaire's partner, Oleg Kishinevsky, and that had left Tenralk himself with, what had been reported at the time as, "horrific injuries".

This much Lois was already aware of from her own research, what she hadn't come across before though was what had turned up as part of the second instalment of the article: a short interview with Tenralk's twin brother, Andriy.

Lois wasn't even aware that Tenralk had a twin.

The periodical's short Q and A with Andriy Tenralk had obviously been in place of an interview from the man himself, who'd now gone into a self imposed exile, as he continued to "recover from his injuries."

In the interview Andriy had admitted to a sense of frustration, complaining bitterly of being kept away from his brother and not being allowed to see or speak to him in the months following the fatal accident. He'd gone on to claim that on the one occasion that he had been allowed to visit, his brother had been uncommunicative, was physically un-recognisable and acting strangely.

"Is there any way for Andriy to be contacted? I'd really like to talk to him, if I could," Lois had questioned down the phone.

"I thought you might ask that," Jamahl supplied, sagely.

"So, what have you got?"

"Andriy Tenralk was killed in a hunting accident, four weeks after that interview was published."

Lois' shoulders had slumped. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope. Sorry, Miss Lane."

"Unbelievable," she'd breathed. "Look, can you send me what you've got? I'll send you my email address."

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks for calling."

"Any friend of Jimmy's …" Jamahl responded amiably down the crackling line. "I only wish I'd had better news for you, Miss Lane. Bye."

"Yeah," Lois said in farewell.

This whole Tenralk debacle was getting beyond ridiculous. How many brick walls and dead-ends could one man put up, she wondered in frustration, and why?

"Crap!" she gritted out moments later, slamming her phone shut and stomping back to the gate, cursing all the way.

Three heads turned her way as she noisily approached.

"What?" she challenged petulantly. "Open the gate already, time's a wasting."

"They're saying they have a policy change, Lois. We can't get in without an appointment," Clark supplied helpfully.

Lois cast her indignant ire towards the two guards. She shook her head brazenly. "Yeah, right," she drawled out sarcastically.

The two guards reached up as one, swinging pump-action shotguns from out harnesses attached to their backs, taking aim at the journalistic duo.

"Good point, well made, gentlemen," Clark squeaked, sounding suitably impressed. "Come on, Lois. Lets go," he said, climbing back into their car.

"You guys don't scare me," Lois sniffed, flexing her arm and neck muscles.

"Lois," Clark called darkly.

"Fine," she huffed, opening the car door and sliding in. She started the engine, clicked her seat belt into place and put the car in reverse. "Consider yourselves lucky," she spat at the guards, before sliding her window back up. Speeding the vehicle up and executing a perfect doughnut over the tarmac, Lois and Clark raced off the plant's grounds.

"Not a great afternoon," Lois muttered from the wheel of their SUV, as she began to fill Clark in on her conversation with Jimmy's friend in Paris. "This day's been a total bust," she concluded.

"Not entirely," Clark said, looking over at her from the passenger side.

"Oh?"

"I scanned the area around the fence line, leading up to the south side of the plant," he explained.

"Okay. And?" Lois prompted impatiently.

"For an oil refinery, they sure stock a lot of green compounds."

Lois slammed the brakes down on the car. "Green … meteor rocks?" she asked incredulously.

Clark met her wide-eyed stare with a gentle nod. "I think so."

"Clark, this is serious. What do you mean; you think so? Is it Kryptonite or not?" she pleaded.

He nodded slowly. "I couldn't see what they were doing exactly, but they're definitely refining Kryptonite in there, Lois."

She gripped the steering wheel tightly and fought to control her rising anger.

Clark reached over and gently placed his left hand over her right. He soothingly rubbed his thumb against her white-knuckled grip. "It's okay," he soothed. "Tenralk wouldn't be the first company to use Kryptonite in a consumer product. Most of them harmless to the general population," he reasoned.

He could feel Lois' disapproving stare boring right into his skull.

"We'll be okay, Lois," he tried to assure her again, not sounding nearly confident enough to his own ears. "We'll be okay."

**-8-**

Lois remained in a bad mood for the rest of the day, following the phone call from Paris and their not so successful visit to the former site of Meehan Labs.

Clark had tried his best to distract her from her dark mood, while not sneaking away from the office to answer calls for help.

"I need a drink," Lois groused from behind her monitor. She sat back in her chair to peering at her husband typing away on the other side of their adjoining desks. "It's been a really long, horrible day, Clark," she complained.

He certainly couldn't disagree with that assessment. He nodded. "Yeah. Want to get dinner at Oscar's?" Clark asked, beginning the log out procedure on his computer.

"Definitely," Lois sighed. She'd already shut off her own PC and reached into a desk drawer to retrieve her purse and messenger bag. "I just want to down a couple of brews and put this day to bed."

Lois grabbed her jacket from behind her chair and shrugged into it. She spotted Kim Okuda talking to Bob Fisk from sports on the other side of the bullpen, looking like they were getting ready to leave, but something on the overhead monitors had attracted their attention.

"Hey, Kim," she called out. "We're heading to Oscar's; you guys coming?"

Kim nodded enthusiastically back at her. "We'll see you guys there in a minute," he said, turning back to the monitor. "I just want to see this breaking story," he called.

"Breaking story--Clark, can you turn that up?" Lois asked, tilting her head towards the bank of overhead monitors closest to their desks.

Clark did as he was asked then stepped back to view the LNN breaking story.

"… _And just to go back to the news that's still coming in; we're receiving reports tonight, that there has been a series of gas pipeline ruptures in a remote part of Siberia, Russia. We don't know if there are any casualties as of yet, but if the reports are true, then we could be looking at an ecological disaster for the Russian Federation, with longer term effects felt here, in the West._

"_It is also being reported that because of the terrain and the pipelines remote location, it could take specialist emergency crews hours to arrive at the scene of the suspected ruptures."_

Clark locked eyes with Lois. Their communion silent, but heartfelt; he had to go.

She approached him in three quick strides, pressing her left hand against his chest, stroking over his heart gently, before withdrawing it. Clark caught her hand as she began pulling it back from him. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze before letting them go.

"Be careful," Lois mouthed to him silently.

He gave her a determined nod before backing away from her, moving towards the exit.

Clark was already gone when pandemonium erupted across the bullpen moments later.

"Who have we got in Europe?" Perry White bellowed from his opened office door. "We need someone on this Russian pipeline story, pronto!"

"Ron and Jimmy are in Brussels, Chief," Lois supplied.

"Walter Logon's in our St Petersburg bureau," replied another reporter.

"Fine. Knox," Perry called out to his assistant come-gopher. "Get Ron and Walter on the line, I need them in that hot zone like it was yesterday, understand?"

"Got it, Mr. White."

"And make sure Ron takes Jimmy. I need pictures!"

"Yes, Chief."

"I need projections on what these exploding pipes mean for the Russian economy. What are the rest of Europe gonna use for fuel? How much gas does Russia have, and when is it due to run out? How much is this mess gonna cost, and whose going to clean it up?"

"I'm on it, Chief," called Okuda, stripping off his jacket and taking a seat at his desk.

"Let's hustle people--move!"

"Umm, Mr. White?" Sandy Knox asked, while scribbling furiously onto a note pad. "What about transport? For Ron and Jimmy, I mean? Commercial transportation won't get them anywhere near the danger zone, sir."

"Hmm." Perry paused to think.

"Leave it to me, Chief," Lois called out as she picked up the nearest phone and began to dial. "The General's in D.C. but I know a couple of officers in Germany who can help our guys re transport."

"Hold your horses there, Lane. You're not the only one with contacts you, know," Perry harrumphed. "I'll call my old friend, Catfish, in the Air force, he owes me a few favours."

"If you're sure?" Lois asked, waving the receiver in her hand.

"Yeah, I've got this one. Hey, where's Kent?" he asked suddenly. "I want him to give me something from the human angle; communities affected and what not."

"He had to fly, Chief. He had a meeting with a source," Lois explained.

Well, it wasn't a complete lie.

Perry White shook his head in dismay, calling another reporter to his side, before returning to his office.

"Lois," Kim Okuda called out to her. "You're up to speed on some of this, and I could really use your help on some background for the pipeline owners."

"We sharing the by-line?" she asked automatically.

"You bet."

"Then lets see what you got," she said, removing her jacket and purse from her shoulders.

The beer with her name on it, waiting patiently for her at Oscar's was going to have to wait a while. Getting something out for the early editions of tomorrow's paper took precedence right now, and as usual, she needed to be in the thick of it.

Lois looked up and checked the time; the numerous clocks on the wall of the bullpen were set to each time zone around the world.

In Metropolis the time was now 19:41 PM. In the disaster zone, where Clark was headed, the time was approximately thirteen hours ahead--already tomorrow.

She voiced a silent prayer for her husband's safe homecoming before returning her attention to the hive of activity quickly spreading throughout the newsroom.

What Lois Lane, the reporter didn't know; what Lois Lane-Kent, wife of Clark Kent aka Superman _couldn't_ know, was that the operation known as Phase 3 was already well under way.

**-8-**

… _**To be continued …**_

_To all of you who have been waiting patiently for an update, please accept my deepest apologise, for the delay in getting this chapter out to you. Real life has once again been kicking my butt, but I've managed to claw my way through it, and hope that you all enjoy the latest instalment. _

_I will do my best not to take so long in posting the next chapter._

_It really does me good to hear from you, so please don't forget to leave feedback if you're enjoying the story, or have a constructive criticism. I welcome your views, and let's face it; it's the only way I'll know if my efforts have been worthwhile._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Clark streaked across the skies, the red cape of his uniform billowing against his back as he flew as fast as he could towards the ruptured Russian pipelines.

The news report he'd seen at the Daily Planet hadn't been specific about the location of the ruptures beyond mentioning Siberia, and Siberia just happened to make up seventy-seven percent of Russia's territory; amounting to just over 13 million square kilometres. Or put another way, he'd be facing having to scan an area of over 5 million square miles.

Not really something he wanted to waste time doing when lives could be at stake--even with super-powers.

Fortunately, for Clark, he was familiar with the general location of the Russian Federation's gas fields, due partly to his profession and to his on-going interest, since childhood, in collecting astronomy and world atlases.

Even though he was travelling at high velocities he was aware of crossing timelines and moving through differing climate systems, though the changes in temperature had no effect on him directly; from the early evening humidity of Metropolis' late spring to the frosty early morning air of Russia's subarctic tundra.

Clark flew with renewed determination as he approached the Arctic Circle and homed in on the most abundant source of natural gas in Russia, the western Siberian district of Yamalia.

The district's major gas fields were dotted above the Arctic Circle in a series of pipes that lay above and under ground, stretching out, like a human network of veins, for thousands of miles, bringing fuel to millions of homes and businesses throughout east and western Europe and as far south as Turkey.

He began a vectored search from the air, his eyes and ears on alert for the smallest anomaly. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for, the overpowering smell of gas and burning steel assaulting his senses within moments of arriving at the gas fields.

Sighting the burning structures he flew further west for another sixty miles, attempting to appraise the extent of the damage as he drew closer.

Clark could see that a ground valve and its supporting metal structure were on fire, and a few feet beyond it lay a line of blazing pipes, supported by concrete decks, one section blown apart, golden flames licking out in every direction while its black, toxic smoke spiralled into the formerly, clear, frozen air.

The hard, ice-packed earth that lay beneath the pipes and around the safety valve were blackened and burned, steam appearing to rise from the ground as if from the end of a cigarette: blue smoke rising in whorls and plumes to join their more obviously toxic cousins.

Clark headed towards the valve.

Ground valves were used as safety measures and were situated at frequent intervals a few miles along each pipeline, operating like gateways. They allowed the gas to flow freely, and were used to stop gas flow along certain sections of pipe, should maintenance of the pipe or section be required.

As his feet touched the scorched earth an explosion ripped through the burning head of the heavy, steel, valve. The force of the explosion sent a damaged chunk of hot, flaming metal flying at Clark's head. Instinctively his hands went up to protect himself, but even he wasn't quick enough; the force of the impact knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling along the barren ice-packed ground.

Turning over and rubbing his jaw to remove the sting, Clark was quickly back on his feet and collecting the blown off head of the valve, which had landed a few hundred feet away from him. Considering the impact of the blast and where it had landed, the valve appeared to be in workable condition--or it would be, once he used his heat-vision on it.

Making his way back to the raging valve and the sound of hissing and groaning pipes, he took a long, deep breath and began blowing firmly and steadily onto the ruptured control device, using his ability to generate air below freezing point.

For several minutes he blew, having to take pause to re-fill his lungs once, while he was at it. Eventually the fire damped down enough for Clark to weld the head of the regulator tap back into place with his heat-vision and turn off the gas supply.

He took a step back to admire his smouldering handy-work, gazing left and right along the line of pipes, looking for further outbreaks of fire and ensuring that what had been raging before was now out, or at the very least, under control. Without any further accelerant to aid them, what small fires still raged would burn them selves out.

Clark blew out a relieved breath. He'd assumed, from the, admittedly brief, news report, that he'd be facing miles of burning pipe with the possibility of towns and tiny, rural communities in danger. His gaze swept over the barren landscape once more.

This was it? This was the "_possible ecological disaster_"?

Salekhard, the administrative centre for Yamalia--believed to be the only town in the world located right on the Polar circle--was only 300 miles south of this isolated gas field. The land, though an icy tundra with sparse vegetation, was flat, more an icy marshland than anything. Surely it wouldn't take special emergency crews more than a few hours, probably less, to get here and make the area safe.

Yet there was no sign of anyone: no gas workers; field experts; fire crews; nothing.

Clark's eyes sought out the regulator valve in the opposite direction, he spotted it easily as it glinted in the early morning sun. Flying to it in moments, he checked it thoroughly before zipping back to the rupture site. It was undamaged and the valve had been moved to its stop position.

A vision of Lois popped into his head: her lips were pursed and she had an eyebrow arched in suspicion. Clark nodded in agreement.

He began examining the section of damaged pipe where it appeared that the rupture had emanated from and the surrounding debris field. Bits of metal pipe work lay scattered across the still smouldering earth, patches of ice turning to brown pools of liquid next to the ground where it wasn't scorched directly.

The source of the blast appeared to be where a large section of pipe was now missing, blown to bits from some sort of gas-pressure leak perhaps. He ran his hands over the serrated edges of the warm, twisted metal and scanned deeply, looking for a blast pattern.

He should have found that an outward explosion had caused the damage: a build up of gas, ignited by internal corrosion of the pipes or something similar. He didn't.

Studying the metal closely he found that the blast pattern radiated inwards instead of out.

He scanned the blast's debris field and spotted the remnants of a small explosive device.

Sabotage.

But why would anyone go to the trouble of sabotaging one, remote gas pipeline? The damage, as far as he could tell, was going to be minimal, even if he hadn't gotten here as soon as he had.

It made no sense.

Turning slowly he gazed out across the horizon and into the distance, wondering what it was he was missing.

A sharp pain suddenly lanced through his body and he screamed out, hands clutching at his chest.

He looked down in shock; between his fingers and over the "S" shield of his costume lay a group of, what appeared to be, animal darts.

Panting out in laboured breaths, Clark pulled the darts from his body with shaking hands. Staggering back several steps he tried to see where his attacker had come from.

He felt another set of darts penetrate his skin at the neck. As he raised his hand to remove them, another set of penetrative needles assaulted his exposed ribs; and in quick succession his body was hit with a series of these grouped, poison darts.

Clark's agonised cry echoed throughout the icy tundra as he fell to his knees, the pain excruciating. He could feel the Kryptonite--it had to be--working its way through him like, what it must feel to experience, razor-sharp knives attached to rusty, barnacled probes, which in turn were attached to crude lasers; and all of them hitting their mark.

It registered, in some part of his brain that wasn't screaming that he's been set up. This entire pipe rupture story was a trap for Superman and he didn't see it coming, didn't suspect a thing.

Not even a little bit.

He felt himself losing consciousness and slipping away, his body too weak to fight the toxins. His blood felt like it was on fire; it hurt to breathe, to move; everything was fading from view a little at a time. Clark fought it. The front of his body was peppered with darts, but he gritted his teeth and fought the sharp spasms of pain that jolted down his neck and spine, pulling himself to his knees he looked up.

Men dressed in black combat garb were emerging from small, earth-covered bunkers hidden underground.

Lead lined, Clark grimly surmised.

The dozen or so men now surrounding Superman all had their weapons raised. They carried Gatlin style hand guns, fitted with laser sights for accuracy and attached with long ribbons of ammo that expelled Kryptonite loaded darts from each fast rotating chamber rapidly and forcefully--the better to deliver their payload of poison into a Superman's system.

Someone nearby was clapping, and Clark no longer had the strength to move his head in any direction to see where it was coming from. His head was hung down onto his chest and he swayed under the weight of his own body.

He felt rather than saw a booted foot connect with his left shoulder, pushing him backwards onto the scorched earth. His eyes were barely open, but he could still see the sky, so clear, so blue--the sun glinting off the polished metal surfaces of the undamaged pipelines.

A blob in a white, fur-lined parker crashed into his view, it wore a smirk and a dark chuckle. Crouching down, the menace in white whispered into his captive's ear.

"Did you really think I'd forgotten who you were? And what you are?"

"Lex." It came out sounding like a scratchy wheeze: a dying man's deathbed revelation.

Lex Luthor heard it though, as he watched the costumed freak slip into unconsciousness.

"Call in the air crew and load him up," Lex called out to his team, straightening to stand. "There's to be no trace that any of us where ever here, and that includes dear old Supes, understand?" he demanded, resting a foot in triumph on his foe's helpless body.

A team member, dressed head to toe in black stepped forward. "Yes, sir, we understand; Ms. Carmichael briefed us thoroughly. The clean-up crew should be here by the time our air support arrives, sir."

"Good. Very good," he said to himself. "Phase three: complete."

Lex couldn't help but gloat over the supine figure of the world's greatest superhero.

"You're going to know the meaning of suffering, Superman," Lex declared, his voice tight with whispered hate. "You're going to know the meaning of betrayal--" A muscle in his jaw twitched. _" … Clark."_

… _**To be continued …**_

_Chapter twelve will be posted here soon; so don't forget to check back._

_And, as ever, please leave some feedback for this poor author._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve  
**

Perry White's intense stare roamed over the mock-up pages covering his desk for the following morning's first edition of the Daily Planet. Looking to his right he scanned what he hoped would be their lead story: the Russian pipeline disaster, with supporting articles highlighting the ecological and, probable social-economic fall out from such a catastrophe. And to his left, Perry considered the sordid details of an up and coming local politician's arrest.

Perry checked the time on his wristwatch and then the clock on the wall opposite his desk. Time was running out, as even he couldn't hold the presses indefinitely, and as Editor in Chief he needed to make a decision.

He was faced with a dilemma: should he run a front-page story without confirmation of the facts from an independent source? Something he'd never done before, or should he go with the tacky, but verifiable, story of yet another politician exposed by their sordid behaviour?

As yet, none of the Daily Planet's own domestic or foreign-based reporters were able to cite a single source or government agency to back up the Lex News Network's earlier report, although they were still repeating their exclusive breaking story.

Perry had spoken, less than an hour ago, with Walter Logon, the Daily Planet's senior Russian correspondent, who was based primarily in St Petersburg and Moscow.

"_Nobody here knows how LNN got hold of a report like that, Perry," he'd explained. "All the Russian news agencies are claiming it's a complete fiction. Both Gazprom and Tenralk Oil and Gas have issued statements denying any knowledge of pipeline ruptures, and together they own about ninety-eight percent of Russia's gas industry."_

"_Well, maybe you need to contact whoever else owns the other two percent. A story like this just doesn't appear out of nowhere, Walter; they're probably lying."_

"_Twenty years ago I might have agreed with you, but this isn't the nineteen-eighties and we're not dealing with the Politburo anymore. If there was something to report, believe me, my sources in the Federal Assembly and the Duma would have let something slip; and I've been here too long not to know when I'm being 'officially' lied to."_

"_Well, someone's being lied to here, and I'll be damned if I make the Daily Planet look like anyone's fool."_

"_I hear you. Look, there are two flights out to Salekhard a week and I'll be on the next one, leaving first thing tomorrow morning, my time."_

"_Sally what?" _

"_Salekhard. It's the town that's the centre of the universe in terms of gas production out here. If something's amiss, they'd be the ones to know, and as of ten minutes ago, they were reporting green lights across the board in terms of production and safety."_

_The older newspaperman had snorted, "Forgive me if I'm not comforted by the reputation of Russia's safety standards--Chernobyl ring any bells for ya'?" _

"_Chernobyl's in the Ukraine," Walter had corrected smoothly. "Perry, seriously, I don't think there's a story here. The fact that flights are still scheduled for Salekhard speaks volumes to that. If they wanted to cover up a pipeline disaster, it would be the first place to be shut down and the last town anyone would be getting close to, right now."_

Despite the number of times he'd been turning Walter Logon's words over in his head, Perry felt no closer to an answer now, than an hour ago.

" … _I don't think there's a story here."_

And the astute words of a reporter of Logon's stature and experience couldn't be discounted.

Something needed to go to press; time was running out and the Daily Planet's Editor in Chief had a decision to make … and the reputation of a great metropolitan newspaper to uphold.

He checked his watch again; he could hold off the presses for maybe one more hour….

**-8-  
**

* * *

**The Daily Planet - Online**

**May 29****th**** 2014**

**Dirty Politics – Youngest City Councilman arrested in drug den! **

**By Andrea Bailey, city desk**

Six months ago, Martin Range, 24, was elected to office as the youngest city councilman in Metropolis' history.

He swept into office on a tide of optimism, idealism and youthful fervour, with many seasoned politicians, including former State Senator, Martha Kent, backing Range to go all the way to the Senate, some even further.

Shockingly those dreams lay in tatters last night, as the Metropolis Police Department confirmed his arrest with another, as yet unidentified, male in the notorious Bathhouse district of the city.

The police charges include possession of illegal narcotics, thought to be crack cocaine and heroin, and solicitation of a prostitute.

Story continues 

**Related Stories**

Profile – Martin Range

Range War! – Councilman demands more care assistance for elderly

Range Wins! Young pup sweeps to power in local elections

**$4 Million Stolen in Bank Heist **

**An armed gang forced** a bank official to withdraw an estimated $4 Million dollars from the private city bank, Cleaver and Poole, in downtown Metropolis on Wednesday night.

They had taken his wife, his mother and the couple's three children, aged between seven and three years of age hostage.

Story continues 

**Daily Planet Online – Regular Features**

**NEWS**

**SPORTS**

**COMMENT**

**CULTURE**

**BUSINESS**

**MONEY**

**LIFE STYLE**

**TRAVEL**

**ENVIRONMENT**

**BLOGS**

**LNN in Hoax Broadcast Fiasco! **

**By Omar Assad **

**LNN, The Lex News Network, is preparing itself for some scathing criticism **from its peers and industry watchdogs today,as it prepares to answer questions over its broadcast of the completely fraudulent news story; that a significant number of Russian gas pipelines had been destroyed in an accidental rupture.

LNN have yet to comment officially, except to say that an internal investigation into these claims is underway.

Story continues 

**Related Stories**

Russians crush rumours of ruptured pipelines

**Superman Watch!**

**The Man of Steel takes day off **it would appear, as there were no reported sightings of him anywhere around the globe, yesterday.

We think the big guy deserves his day off, but hurry back, Superman. The world is always in need of a hero.

* * *

The moment she finished reading the internet news headline, Lois knew, instinctively, that something was horribly wrong and her hands started to shake. The coffee cup she'd been holding fell from her fingers, the ceramic mug shattering upon impact against the kitchen floor. The barely sipped at liquid creating a dark, slowly, spreading stain across the tiled surface below her feet.

She didn't even feel the scratches against her legs from the shattered mug's ceramic shards, and her brain had yet to register the sensation of hot liquid seeping into the soles of her latest pair of bunny slippers.

Lois stood, immobile, at the kitchen island, her eyes wide in growing dread, as she forced herself to re-read the news article that stared back at her from the laptop's screen.

She'd returned home late from the office the previous night, exhausted, in an effort to keep her mind off of her husband. Working with Kim Okuda well into the wee-hours, in an attempt for the paper to have as much detailed, background, information as possible on what they'd all believed to be a genuine, developing, disaster.

Before she'd left, she'd heard rumbles from Perry's office that he was having trouble confirming the story's source, but that in it-self wasn't anything new or unusual. In this sort of situation, there was bound to be panic and confusion among the regular lines of communication. She'd thought nothing more of it.

She'd slept fitfully, when she'd returned home, unable to keep thoughts of what her husband might be facing out of her mind.

Waking up to the news that now faced her….

Lois tried to get a hold of her-self; maybe she was panicking.

Just because the gas story had been bogus didn't mean that Clark couldn't be somewhere else in the world, saving lives and helping out where he could. He'd sometimes be gone for days at a time … during a tsunami … or a hurricane, an earthquake … or flooding … forest fires.

No other disasters, natural or otherwise, seemed to be appearing in this morning's edition of the Daily Planet.

_Shit. Shit. _

_Don't panic, Lane. Not now. He's okay. He probably came home, but didn't want to wake me. Yeah. Probably stopped off at the farm, to have breakfast with Mom._

_Yeah. He's okay._

Lois finally tore her eyes away from the laptop and made a grab for the cordless phone that sat behind the fruit bowl. She slipped as she moved, nearly losing her balance as the spilt coffee at her feet finally made its presence known. Staggering a little she managed to keep her balance and looked down, quickly surveying the mess. It'd keep.

Cautiously, stepping around the clutter, she picked up the phone and selected a number from the speed-dial menu. Lois anxiously held her breath as she listened to the ringing monotone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom." She hoped she was keeping the panicked sound out of her voice.

"Lois. Hi, honey. Is everything all right?" Martha Kent's warm, welcoming and unnaturally perceptive voice had Lois nearly losing it almost immediately.

She took a quick calming before saying, "Everything's great, Mrs. K. Umm, I was just calling to… " _Oh, crap, what was she supposed to say?_

Martha was quick to fill the hesitant pause in Lois' voice. "I know you and Clark planned to get away this weekend, but I hope you're still coming over for supper on Sunday evening?"

"Oh, so Clark didn't stop by for breakfast with you, this morning?" Lois could feel herself pulling faces at the phone. She sounded pathetic.

"Clark?"

"Yeah. He… said he might be stopping by the farm this morning… umm, before we left I mean. You know, later."

Martha paused on the other end of the line before answering. "No, he didn't stop by," she said slowly. "Lois, is something wrong?"

"No, no," she said casually, trying to diffuse the apprehension she was hearing in her mother-in-law's guarded reply. "I just wanted to ask him to pick something up for me, on his way back, and thought maybe he'd be at the farm."

"Oh." To Lois's ears, Martha Kent was clearly not convinced.

"If he does show up, can you have him call me?"

"Sure, honey."

"Thanks, Mom. I've got to go. Call you later, okay?"

"Lois, wait. If you and Clark are having problems, you know I'm here for you, Sweetie."

"What? Oh, no. I mean, we're good; we're good. It's nothing, okay?"

"If you're sure?"

"No… I mean, yeah, we're fine. I have to go. Bye." Lois disconnected the call, blew out an anguished breath and frowned.

_God, I feel horrible. Did I just lie to Mrs. Kent?_

She closed her eyes and tried to compose herself for a few seconds.

_Focus, Lois, focus, _she berated herself.

Opening her eyes, she selected another number from her speed-dial handset.

At least with this call, Lois assured herself, she knew she wouldn't have to offer any sort of opening preamble or guard her questions. A familiar male voice answered the call after three rings.

"Ollie, have you seen Clark?"

"And good morning to you, too. You know, just because you guys have the number to my scrambled line, it doesn't mean I'm here at your beck and call. It's supposed to be used sparingly, Lois," Oliver Queen drawled, sarcastically.

"This isn't a social call, Oliver. Have you seen Clark?"

"What do you mean? Like on the news? Is he opening a new library or is it a shopping mall this time?"

"Quit being a jerk. Like this morning; have you seen him?"

"Wow. You're in a great mood. No, I haven't. What's going on?"

"I think Clark's missing."

"What? You guys have a fight or something and he went AWOL?"

"Oliver, will you shut the hell up and listen to what I'm trying to tell you," Lois bit out impatiently. "Boy Scout has gone dark."

That got his attention. The line between the old friends and former lovers went silent as Lois waited for Oliver to digest the code words she'd just used.

"Big blue? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, and I don't care how this sounds, but I can feel it, Ollie. He's in trouble."

"And this feeling is based on what, exactly?"

Lois quickly took Oliver Queen through the events, as she knew them, from the night before. From the breaking news story that had set off this chain of events through to this morning's latest information: confirmation that the story was a deception.

"Look, maybe he realised that Russian thing was ruse, and he's just been doing his thing around the planet; like an away day patrol," Oliver offered by way of explanation, once she'd completed confessing her fears.

Lois shook her head as she adjusted the receiver against her ear. "No way," she adamantly responded. "Unless there was some other disaster somewhere--and I've done nothing but check all the news services on-line, since we've been on the phone--and nadda. He would have at least called, or found some way to let me know he was okay."

"So, you really think someone set him up, that this gas pipeline thing was a ploy to trap Superman?"

"Yes, and we need to find him, now," she asserted urgently.

Oliver took another moment to think about it, before responding. "I'll have the team form up right away. We're on it, Lois," he confidently assured her. "If he's out there, we'll find him."

"Thank you."

She hung up the phone, wishing that her conversation with Oliver had somehow assuaged her irrational fears, had calmed the rising panic that was threatening to burst up, from out of her throat on a hoarse scream.

Instead, all she felt was an ominous, creeping dread.

_Come on, Lane. Keep it together, now,_ she reminded herself. _Clark's out there somewhere and we need to find him._

_Hold on, baby. I'm coming.  
_

**-8-  
**

_**He who cannot revenge himself is weak; he who will not is vile **_

_- Anonymous  
_

Lex Luthor stared up at his prey, his arms folded over his chest as it rose and fell with puffed-up pride, surveying his quarry from the control room of his private island's laboratory.

His small island off the coast of Sweden had been a second home to him for some time now, and over the years he'd designed and constructed a number of labs, with this particular guest in mind.

Finally he had his prize and it was hanging, naked, before him, a latter-day pseudo-Christ in metal and Kryptonite chains. Lex watched, from behind a wall of five-inch thick, toughened glass, as a hydraulic mechanism lifted the limp hero into a large vat-like container filled with a clear liquid and holding him suspended in the fluid by his neck.

Injury was already marring the fair skin of the alien. Red welts and bruises had formed across his chest, abdomen, shoulders and thighs, from where his team's darts had hit their mark earlier. The alien had also earned himself a cut lip and a bloody nose on board Lex's private aircraft; having roused briefly from his weakened state to lash out, blindly, with his fists, against one of the guards. Lex had nodded a quick accent to his expectant team, and had watched in pleasure, as a set of brutal left-right combination punches were delivered to the face of his enemy, subduing him into unconsciousness once more.

"He's a fascinating specimen," one of the Lex's scientific team, a woman with a thick Greek accent, commented in awe. "His reaction to our compounds should prove very interesting," she continued.

Lex turned to the woman at his shoulder. All of Doctor Helena Thanou's earlier trepidation, about working with unknown alien DNA, had been replaced with a sense of excited expectation, now that the specimen was alive and before her.

If she recognised that the being suspended in the tank was Superman, she didn't acknowledge it in any way; no one on his science teams had.

"I've waited a long time to see just what sort of reaction you're likely to get, Doctor," Lex responded happily.

He'd been planning this entire scenario, meticulously, for the better part of six years.

Six years since he'd regained consciousness, in a private and remote Swiss clinic. Six years since waking to find his body battered and broken from his arctic experience. He'd contented himself, at the time, with the knowledge that at least his _will_ had been indomitable, and Clark Kent was no more.

Veritas, Lionel Luthor's scheme to manipulate the Visitor for his own ends, had failed, and Lex had succeeded in securing the safety of his country and his planet from the threat of a conquering alien hoard.

That grim satisfaction had sustained him for all of seventy-two hours, until his numerous LuthorCorp lackeys had brought him up to speed, on all things business, Smallville and Metropolis related.

Senator Martha Kent was not grieving. Clark Kent lived.

Clark Kent, the man whom Lex had thought of as a brother; had brought into his confidence; had been generous to, with his time and money; had helped on numerous occasions; had lied for and defended… only to be betrayed by him.

Clark Kent had humiliated him by lying to him for all of these years, no doubt laughing behind his back while Lex had tried to fathom the strange and unexplainable occurrences that seemed to follow Clark wherever he went.

Lex thought about all of the times he'd confronted Clark about this perceived "oddness", offering his hand in friendship and support again and again, only to be lied to and deemed untrustworthy; not good enough for the naive farm boy and his family.

And all along this farm boy turned man, was an alien sent here to rule.

It all could have been so different, if Clark had just trusted him. They could have worked together … ruled together … too late.

It was all too late.

Lex knew better now, he was no longer the gushing, grateful friend or ersatz-brother, he, Lex Luthor was not about to allow the Earth to fall into this or any other alien's clutches.

With provisions already in place for his "disappearance" from the public eye, should it ever be warranted, his recovery period was the perfect opportunity to develop another plan, one that would rid the world of its alien scourge once and for all, but not before conducting some experiments--though some might describe what he had in store as torture.

Now, all of those plans, laid out so long ago, were finally reaching fruition.

"When you're ready, begin," Lex instructed to the assembled and handpicked team of, lilac coloured lab-coat wearing, scientists that stood behind him.

"Let's draw some blood before applying the electrodes and twenty cc's of compound B," stated a technician from one of the workstations.

Clark awoke to the feeling of itchiness. His skin was tingling with a pricking sensation in several places at once across his body. Instinctively he tried to scratch at the irritation only to find that his hands wouldn't move. His eyes snapped open and he jerked in his bonds as recent memory came crashing back to full awareness.

The bogus pipeline explosion.

Lex.

His neck felt like it was in a vice and he found that he couldn't move his head. His hands and arms were restrained out and away from his body, in what he assumed were Kryptonite bindings. He could feel the sensation of water, or some other type of fluid against his body, and he kicked out against it with his legs, that remained free from restraint. The tepid fluid sloshed up against the sides of the tank he was held within, rising to cover his head briefly.

He spluttered and coughed up the foul tasting liquid with every thrash of his legs in an attempt to gain some momentum and break himself loose.

A thin, sharp-tipped, plastic looking, remote controlled arm was lowered into the tank with him and several seconds later Clark felt the sting of a needle entering his lower back, just above his buttocks.

He gasped as the freezing sensation of the needle penetrated him deeply. It remained embedded within his skin for several seconds before it was withdrawn slowly.

Within another two minutes he could feel his skin start to burn with a heat he'd never experienced before, not even during his worst fever. Moments after that he felt the muscles in his calves begin to contract with earth-shuddering spasms, and suddenly the pain he was already experiencing was increased by an order of seismic proportions.

Clark struggled to hold back his cries of pain and anguish, not wishing to give Lex, wherever he was, the satisfaction of hearing him scream, but these torments were intolerable and after several long minutes of enduring what felt like his muscles being shredded from the inside out, and his flesh, feeling like it was being pulled back from the bone an inch at a time, he couldn't help the wild and chilling scream of agonised horror that was torn from his throat.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut Clark tried to focus his thoughts inward and away from present horrors being visited upon his body. He tried to concentrate on the sound of her heartbeat, that rhythmic thump, thump that always made him feel at peace.

_Lois._

He couldn't hear her and his legs began to thrash wildly in the tank as panic overtook him.

_Lois._

Her scent, that mixture of peaches and cinnamon and that spicy, alluring, perfume she always wore, that was always so close to the edge of his awareness… and now… it was gone.

He couldn't smell her. _Oh, God._

"_Hold on, baby. I'm coming."_

Her voice.

_Lois._

Her could hear her voice in his head and it calmed his thrashing limbs, though they still jerked in involuntary spasms of pain. Slow tears of relief made tracks against his already wet cheeks as her voice repeated her soothing words to him.

Oh, God, he needed her now.

_Lois, please help me._

… _**To be continued …  
**_

_To those that have been waiting patiently for an update, thank you for continuing to hang in there. I really apologize for not posting sooner; this has been an oversight on my part and __**not **__from a lack of motivation._

_I'll try not to be so tardy with further instalments._

_I always warmly welcome feedback; so don't be afraid to leave a little, if you're enjoying the story._

_Annie_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen  
**

* * *

**The Daily Planet - Online**

**May 31****st**** 2014**

**5 Dead in Bakerline Inferno**

Over 300 people were rescued from a 25-storey apartment building in the Bakerline district of Metropolis, last night. 15 people were declared dead at the scene and 48 were injured, including several fire fighters. A number of the injured are thought to have suffered life-threatening burns, and many others are suffering from smoke inhalation and minor burns.

The Fire Department are investigating and treating the incident as suspicious.

Story continues 

**Three Killed as $88 Million Stolen in Bank Heists **

**By Omar Assad, city desk**

In four separate incidents across the city, three bank workers were shot and killed, as criminal gangs targeted four separate banks and stole a total of $88 million dollars.

Story continues 

**One Dead in Jewellery Store Robbery **

A New Troy jewellery storeowner was found dead at the scene, last night, of what Police investigators believe to be a robbery gone wrong.

Story continues 

**Daily Planet Online – Regular Features**

**NEWS**

**SPORTS**

**COMMENT**

**CULTURE**

**BUSINESS**

**MONEY**

**LIFE STYLE**

**TRAVEL**

**ENVIRONMENT**

**BLOGS**

**Superman Still Missing**

**Day 2 and still no sign of The Man of Steel. **

Where is Superman?

As the city's police department struggles to cope with an unprecedented number of emergency calls, the people of Metropolis continue to wonder what has become of their hero.

Has Superman abandoned us or is there some sinister force at work, acting to keep our fabled superhero at bay?

**Where is Superman?**

Tell us what you think - click the link to vote now

* * *

**-8-**

"What do you think?"

"Hmm," a deep voice purred thoughtfully over intermittent static.

Oliver Queen adjusted his earpiece, his head bent in concentration as he listened intently.

"Batman?" Oliver prompted over the scrambled Wi-Fi link.

"A little patience, Arrow," Bruce Wayne aka the Batman replied tersely. "Give me a few minutes to study the evidence here, okay?" he continued before abruptly cutting their communications link.

Oliver, Dinah Lance, A.C., Victor Stone and Bart Allen were all aboard the JLA team's ten seat, twin-engine, high speed jet aircraft; currently holding position at an altitude of 45,000 feet somewhere over the Arctic Circle.

Victor, wearing his silver Cyborg get-up, was piloting the plane. His ability to interface directly into the jet's computer systems made controlling the plane easier than sitting at a games console.

Oliver sat in the co-pilot's seat, sporting his leather Green Arrow uniform, monitoring their aerial position and checking ground sensor data and satellite information, which he could access directly from Queen Industries systems.

Dinah and Bart, like the rest of the team were dressed in the uniforms of their alter egos. They chatted quietly with each other as they reclined against the swivelling, leather passenger seats that occupied the spacious cabin.

Between bouts of grumbling he had "nothing to do" and nursing a large bottle of water, A.C. paced the cabin of the jet restlessly. "What a tool," he spat, shaking his head, as he wondered back to his seat.

"Yeah, maybe so, but we need that "tool" right now," Oliver called out in annoyance.

Oliver had called in Bruce Wayne's alter ego the Batman to help in the search for their missing friend, and to access Wayne Industries own satellite data for the day that Superman had disappeared. The two billionaires had compared imagery, and with Bruce's superior detective skills, he'd easily identified Superman's flight path into the Arctic.

"I still don't see why he had to fly out here separately," A.C. complained, walking back to the cockpit to stand in between the seated Oliver and Victor.

"The Batwing's a hell of a lot smaller than our jet," Victor supplied from the pilot's chair. "It's quicker and more manoeuvrable. See, our jet's undetectable at this height and speed, but the Batwing's exterior incorporates a type of radar-shielding, which responds to air pressure and temperature at any height, allowing it to fly and land virtually anywhere without military detection," Victor explained.

The enthusiasm of Victor's technical description left A.C. rolling his eyes.

"Besides, there's no way a jet like ours would be able to land undetected in the middle of Russian gas field," Oliver supplied.

Approaching the open cockpit Bart asked, "Can we really be sure this is where C.K. went down?"

"That's what we're hoping Bruce can confirm."

"It wasn't smart to let him go down there alone, Ollie," Dinah couldn't help pointing out as she crowded into the small cockpit with the rest of her teammates.

"Agreed, but we all know how Bruce plays it when he works with us: it's either his way or…." Oliver trailed off. It wasn't necessary for him to finish his sentence they all knew how it ended.

"Guy's a sociopath," Dinah spat out.

A.C. nodded in agreement and Bart chortled derisively.

"I don't think now's the time to be pointing out the obvious," Victor stated with a glance in Dinah's direction. "There's a bigger picture here; Clark's out there somewhere and he needs us--all of us."

"Victor's right," Oliver agreed. "The only thing we need to be focused on right now, is finding Big Blue. Anything else is secondary. Are we clear?" he demanded.

Three distinct voices answered in the affirmative.

"Good. Batman?" Oliver queried, reverting to hero-mode as he reopened the communications link. "You got anything?"

*******

As tough, resilient and flexible as he'd made his Batman costume, it didn't stop the cold reaching his bones from his surroundings in the icy tundra. Not that he'd had the Arctic in mind when he'd last modified the suit. Something to think on he supposed.

Bruce was ignoring Oliver's call for the moment, focusing on the results he was reading from a palm-sized gadget that acted as a GPS and thermal tracker as well as a mineral and compound analyser.

He had landed his Batwing in a clearing and, using his GPS as a guide, had made his way on foot to what appeared to be a deserted gas field.

Searching and scanning the area he'd found evidence of a recently repaired gas safety valve, a section of pipe, and several lead-lined bunkers, large enough to fit three or four men in each. The snow on the ground around them and in the immediate area looked fresh. Too fresh when compared to the area he'd just jogged in from.

Using another sensor tool from his utility belt, Batman moved slowly, scanning the ground adjacent to the small bunkers. His device had pinged after several minutes, alerting him to something that didn't belong there. Getting down on his knees, he searched with gloved hands through the snow until the foreign object was within his grasp.

It was shaped like an animal dart, its tip coated in a green substance with a trace of red, possibly blood.

Bruce had scanned the lone dart with his device and had been waiting for the results.

"Batman? Batman, are you there?" Oliver's voice broke into the natural silence again.

Bruce took a moment to carefully study the results of his hand-held analyser.

Finally responding to Oliver he asked: "How many people know about Big Blue's aversion to the meteor rocks?"

"Outside of us and his family… I don't know--it should be a pretty short list. Why?"

"Well, by the looks of things, I'd say there's at least one too many on that list. I found a spent dart down here, one that had been loaded with a green meteor rock substance--the type that's poisonous to Kryptonians," Bruce reported.

"Jesus," breathed Oliver over the comm. "Did you find any tracks?"

"Hmm, well someone went to a lot of trouble to conceal evidence that anyone was ever here."

"So, we've got nothing?"

"I didn't say that."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that whoever took our friend had the resources to stage a ruptured gas leak, repair it, clear the area of virtually all evidence and fly an unconscious Superman out of this place. Undetected."

"Sh-it!"

"Yeah. We need to regroup and go over our satellite data again. It was easy enough to plot Big Blue's flight path in, and I believe I'll be able to extrapolate the flight path out of whoever took him," Bruce said, determinedly.

"Yeah. Let's do that."

"Head to the rendezvous point, I'll meet you there in under an hour," Batman instructed. "Oh, and Arrow?" Bruce added, deciding to give Ollie and the rest of his crew something else to ponder for a short while. "Nice speech to the team, by the way, about being focused? I couldn't agree more."

"Wha--?"

Bruce grinned at Oliver's obvious discomfort and shook his head. He listened as the rest of the team gave voice to their opinions.

"Goddamn Bruce and his gadgets."

"Should've known…."

"The son of a bitch has been listening to us the entire time?"

It wasn't much, but his slight distraction would take their thoughts away from the recent discovery that had rocked them all so thoroughly.

Clark Kent was in a lot of trouble; and the understatement of that thought chilled him far worse than standing in the middle of the Arctic tundra.

**-8-**

The news was full of it: his disappearance, his unknown status.

Billboards were dominated with opinionated headlines demanding his return, as others speculated on where he might be.

Superman's desertion, as some were calling it, had become the latest zeitgeist, street corner and water-cooler topic in the small town--and if you didn't have a view on the subject you weren't worth talking to, as Martha Kent had discovered while out shopping for groceries.

She'd spent most of the previous day at a lecture hall in Granville. Having been invited to speak to a local women's group about her experiences in Washington D. C. and the influence of women in politics, from her time representing Kansas as its State Senator, she hadn't seen much of the initial flurry of the "Superman is missing" stories.

Besides, Martha had schooled herself over the years, to not worry too much about him and to accept that her son's life was unique in ways that she could never fully understand or appreciate.

But even knowing all of the above, she could never stop those moments of panic or fear or uncertainty that gripped her, whenever she knew her only child was putting himself deliberately into harms way.

So, as the rumours of his disappearance had begun to surface, she'd tempered her instinctive unease and tried not to think about the awkward conversation she'd shared with Lois two mornings previous.

As hard as she'd tried to get on with her usual Saturday morning routine, it became increasingly difficult to ignore that there wasn't an aisle in the local supermarket that didn't have someone expounding a theory or an explanation on Superman's disappearance.

Every comment, every snide remark and joke had fuelled Martha's apprehension until she could no longer ignore what her heart had been telling her since she'd last spoken to her daughter-in-law.

Abandoning her half filled shopping cart in the home baking and sugar aisle, she'd rushed out of the local grocery store and quickly made her way to her car.

Stopping at a local service station for gas she made a quick call to an old friend and neighbour, to keep an eye on Shelby and the farm, before pulling out and onto the highway, headed for Metropolis.

*******

The moment Lois opened the door to her Martha knew she'd made the right decision by arriving unannounced.

Lois's eyes had grown large with a mixture of shock, guilt and relief when she'd opened the door to Martha, the younger woman unable to speak or move.

The poor girl looked like the life had been drained from her. Lois's olive-green eyes, previously, always so bright and dancing with laughter were now dull and hooded with dark circles. Her face was drawn and there were deep worry lines around her mouth and her eyes.

Martha's heart broke to see it, and knew that her own would follow too, and quickly, if she didn't stay strong for her girl and boy.

"Oh, Lois," she breathed, her own voice choked with emotion at the sight of her daughter in distress. "Why didn't you tell me?" She didn't wait for a response, but took a step forward to breach the distance between them.

They embraced in the doorway of the apartment; the sob, "Mom," falling from Lois' throat as she fell into the older woman's arms.

Eventually, once their emotions had settled, they moved to the kitchen and Lois brewed camomile tea at Martha's suggestion. While they sat at the kitchen island sipping at the hot, calming liquid, Lois had haltingly begun to explain the circumstances behind Clark's disappearance and that she'd asked Oliver Queen and the JLA to help in the search for her husband.

"Have you heard from Oliver?" Lois shook her head, no.

Martha sucked in a breath and nodded.

"Have you been getting any rest?" she asked, already suspecting she knew the answer. The apartment was a mess, with note pads, pictures and articles strewn about the living space like makeshift, patchwork flooring.

"I can't," Lois replied. Indicating the mess with a wave of her hand. "I thought maybe trying to get some work done would help; you know, looking for clues? Anything. But I can't concentrate and I can't sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Mom, I'm so sorry I didn't call you before… to tell you, but I thought I was being paranoid," Lois laughed bitterly, "and then I didn't call later, because I didn't want you to think it was serious. I'm so sorry," she said again, fighting back her tears.

"Oh, honey," Martha shook her head dismissively, moving to comfort the younger woman with a reassuring hug. "You did nothing to be sorry for. Clark's a strong man, now, and we'll find him. I know we will," she promised through fresh tears of her own.

Lois nodded vigorously at the promise. "Yeah," she agreed a little breathlessly, "we will."

Both women, taking strength from the other, laughed through their tears.

"Come on," Lois said, finally releasing her hold on Martha. "What do you say to helping me set up the guest room for you?" she suggested, a hint of her old bravado returning to her voice.

"I'd say that's a great idea."

Lois took Martha's hand in her own and led the older woman up the stairs. "I'm glad you're here," she admitted halfway up.

Martha squeezed her hand and nodded. "Me too."

**-8-**

… _**To be continued …**_

_Don't forget to leave a little feedback; it helps to feed the muse._

_Annie_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

A beautifully manicured woman floated down the airplane aisle and took her very comfortably apportioned seat in first class.

The young woman relaxed into the comfy upholstery and secured her seat belt as a greeting from the plane's captain, in French and then in English, came over the speaker system.

"… Welcome aboard Air France's Flight 072, non-stop from Paris to New York…."

The captain's message droned on in its usual way, including information on the weather, air temperature, approximate flying time and the like, but the woman quickly tuned it all out, turning to attract the attention of male flight attendant standing close by.

She was used to men fawning all over her and the attendant didn't disappoint. He took her order, in a suitably solicitous fashion, and returned a few short minutes later to place a steaming cup of coffee with milk on to the table at her side, and the latest edition of the French newspaper, _Le Mode_.

"_Merci_," she thanked, demurely.

After a short delay on the tarmac the long-haul flight eventually got underway. As the plane climbed to its optimum altitude the brunette turned to the international section of the French daily newspaper, losing herself to the implications of a particular on-going news story.

The story that had peaked her interest spoke of a city's missing hero and how that city had fallen into growing chaos. Worry and concern marred the woman's delicate, elfin features as she lowered the paper.

"May I get you another drink or something else, Miss Lang?" the flight attendant, who'd previously seen to her needs, asked.

Lana Lang barely acknowledged the question, her mind lost to memories of long ago and to the last time she'd seen Clark Kent….

_**February 2010 – four years and five months ago**_

_He was easy to spot, even when sitting down; that large imposing frame, the wonderful way he filled a suit, his thick, dark hair, the strong set of his jaw, his handsome face and that easy, welcoming smile. _

_A smile I'd almost forgotten, it had been so long since I'd seen it, even before we broke up… before… I broke up with him._

_Clark was smiling and trading words with a woman sitting across the desk from him. And it took me a few moments to recognise that the female in question was Chloe's cousin, Lois Lane._

_Her hair was a lot darker than I remembered; it was now a deep chestnut brown, and I do recall wondering, years ago, if she dyed her hair. The darker look suited her. She seemed more mature now; a little older too, perhaps, dressed as she was, in what appeared to be business suit with a colour-contrasting blouse. _

_She'd certainly come a long way since her days serving coffee at the Talon._

_I guess we all had._

_Clark looked confident and happy in the bustling surroundings of the basement newsroom. He and Lois were deep in conversation, although from where I stood it sounded like they were arguing._

_I hesitated in my approach, wondering if this was really what I wanted to do._

_I'd probably hurt him when I left, but it was for his own good, so that he could be free to serve a world that needed him. _

_Having had the previous year to think about what I'd done, I concluded that all I'd really needed was time; some space to sort out what a future with an alien with super-powers could mean for me. _

_But I felt ready, now, to take that next step, after all, Clark and I shared a long history together and I couldn't just throw all that away. _

_I'd always wanted some way to feel equal to him, but without super powers perhaps I could act as his guiding light for good and guide him to greatness. _

_Clark would at last be the man I'd always wanted. I would have an unshakable confidence in him, knowing that there would be no more secrets between us, no more lies. He would be an open book to me, and our relationship would bloom like a rose garden in the spring, if he'd have me._

_And I was sure he would have me, after all, wasn't I the girl he's been in love with since the fourth grade? _

_My continued movement towards his desk must have alerted him, because his eyes caught mine, and I watched as the words he was speaking trailed off to silence as he recognised me._

_I couldn't help the little pang of hurt that rose in my chest as the broad smile he'd been sporting moments before fell from his face and he pursed his lips in agitation. He cast a quick but guilty look in Lois' direction, before standing to offer me a tight smile that kept his teeth hidden._

"_Smallville?"_

_Lois swivelled around in her chair, clearly concerned at Clark's distracted glance and abrupt change in demeanour. Her eyes grew wide when she saw me standing not two feet away from her. She didn't try to hide her grimace of surprise._

"_Lois … Clark," I awkwardly greeted them._

_Clark looked dumbstruck, while Lois didn't look happy to see me at all._

"_You've got a nerve," she spat out with a shake of her head._

_I stared back at Lois, not understanding her hostile tone. _

_Through the years that I'd known her one thing was always abundantly clear: Lois had never understood the complexity of my relationship with Clark. _

_I recalled she'd been a good ear from time to time, but there always seemed to be a brusque air of hostility about her. It was as if she had no time for issues that required serious thought--for her it was simply all black, or all white._

_And I'd always hated that Clark let her call him by that ridiculous nickname, like she had some sort of claim to him. I couldn't believe he still encouraged it._

_Her insult to me seemed to galvanise Clark into action, because he called her name and they shared a look. Some type of wordless understanding passed between the two of them, and saying nothing, Lois picked up her bag and left us to what privacy can be had in the middle of a busy newsroom._

"_Hi," I tried again, a little wistful this time._

"_Lana." Clark said my name like he was waking from a dream._

"_I know it's been a while, but I was hoping you'd be happy to see me?" I hedged, not sure about the reaction he was giving me._

"_What are you doing here?" He had the decency to blush, the moment the question fell from his lips._

_I reached for his hand, to try and placate him, but he stepped back, flinching, as if he didn't trust me._

"_Clark, you have to know why I'm here," I began gently. How could he not know? "I still love you. I know it must have hurt when I left, but I thought I was doing to right thing--setting you free. The trouble is--and I guess I learned the hard way--is that I've been miserable without you. There was so much left unfinished between us."_

"_Lana…"_

_I could see Clark was faltering, his emotions getting the better of him, as usual, but I pressed on, needing him to know it all: to know that I was ready._

"_I can be whatever you need me to be this time, Clark. I won't run a way from us. I already know everything about you." I took another step towards him. "There'll be no secrets," I whispered, knowing he'd get my meaning. "There won't be anymore need for lies."_

"_Lana--" _

_It was as if he didn't know what to say, as he gazed down at me. His lips twisted a little and he stepped forward to finally touch me. Taking a hold of my arm he gently ushered me away from the prying eyes of his work colleagues and across the basement floor to a secluded alcove lined by a bank of empty phone booths._

_We faced each other in the semi-darkness of the booth's shadow. My eyes drank in the sight of him so close, and I couldn't stop my hand as it slid up against his suit jacket and travelled north against his strong, sculpted torso._

_One of Clark's large hands moved over my own, stopping its ascent and pulling it away from his chest to let it rest gently between both of his._

_He stared into my eyes for a few moments, as if he was looking for something specific within my expression. I gazed back into his and realised for the first time, that I had no idea what he was thinking._

"_Lana, when you left a year ago," he began, "I admit, I was devastated. I didn't know if I'd ever get over you, or…." Clark shook his head and smiled wistfully. "Let's just say that for a while I thought… a life of solitude would be the best thing for me."_

"_Oh, Clark, no."_

"_It didn't last," he said, interrupting me with a smile. The first genuine smile he'd offered me since I'd arrived at his desk._

"_Oh?"_

"_I started working here, at the Planet, with Lois and it gave me a focus; learning the ropes, chasing stories, helping people._

"_It didn't make me forget you, Lana, but I learned to move on," he said, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Being here," he went on, lowering his voice to a soft whisper, "is the perfect place to know when I'm needed; the perfect cover. Being a reporter allows me that freedom to …" he made a shimmying motion with his hand. "Get away and help people, without having to answer too many questions."_

_I doubted that. _

"_What about Lois?" I asked incredulously. "Doesn't she ever get suspicious? You work across from her, right? And I can't imagine her not badgering you about your every disappearance." _

_Clark gave me a small knowing smile, and I had to admit, he certainly seemed more confident and self-assured than I remembered him ever being._

"_Lois knows," he supplied with a broad grin._

_Oh, God. "Clark, how could you be so careless? How could you let her discover your secret?"_

"_She didn't really discover it," he said slowly. "I told her."_

"_You told her?" I admit I was a little numb at the news. "Aren't you worried she'll let it slip? I've read some of her stories for the Planet and she's all about the sensational headlines, Clark. You can't trust her. She'll just be waiting for the moment when a headline about you will suit her needs." _

"_Lois isn't like that," he said firmly, fixing me with a cold stare. "And telling her turned out to be one of the easiest things I've ever done."_

_I shook my head in denial; I didn't understand any of it. _

"_Easy?"_

"_I don't know," he shrugged, that smile emerging once more. "It's different with Lois. She gets me. She trusts me … all of me," he trailed off wistfully, smiling softly, as if…._

_--As if at the thought of her. _

_I felt numb. I really didn't know this Clark at all._

"_For the first time in my life, I'm right where I want to be, doing something that's making a difference, and I love it," he continued._

"_Oh, my God," I breathed. "You and Lois?" I asked, though I already had the answer. _

_He shrugged; a habit that was quickly becoming an annoyance. "We haven't exactly formally declared anything yet, but I'm sort of hoping … I think she feels the same way about me."_

_Unshed tears stung my eyes at his words and at his expression. He wasn't even seeing me now and I'd never felt so rejected._

"_You didn't really expect me to be the same guy you walked away from, months ago, did you?" he shrugged innocently. "Look, I'll always love you, Lana," he went on while I fisted my hands tightly in an effort not show him my hurt. "But everything about my life has moved on now, and I don't want to change that. I'm having too much fun."_

_Fun. With Lois. _

_My God._

_Here, in the basement of a musty old newspaper office I was being hit in the face with a truth. And maybe it was a truth I'd always known, but had allowed myself to be fooled by. After all, I couldn't count the number of times Clark and I had broken up, only to drift back to each other, regardless of the circumstances, and regardless of the hurt we'd been feeling or caused each other. _

_But it stung me now, and I felt hollow; Clark was no longer mine. _

_I tried to maintain my dignity while he talked inanely about the friendship he'd always feel for me and how I would always be able to count on him. It didn't mean too much to me, right now._

_On the bright side, at least I was financially capable; the money I'd siphoned from Lex (even more than he'd realised) would last a good while if I were careful. I could start again somewhere, anywhere. There was certainly nothing else for me here._

_So I smiled up at him, stood on my tiptoes, kissed his cheek, wished him well and left._

_As I made my way up the stairs, on my way out of the Daily Planet's basement, I wondered if Lois really knew what she was letting herself in for: the heartaches, the danger and the isolation of being so close to someone so different._

_Surely she'd never have the patience for all of the complexities that came with knowing Clark's secret. And she wasn't particularly sensitive when it came to considering other people's emotions, either._

_Clark was too gentle for her, and she'd never be able to deal with Clark's empathy for complete strangers—she'd be too busy rampaging and bulldozing her way through people to even notice the damage she'd be causing._

_As I exited the building and walked out into the bright Midday sunlight, the thought of them and what they faced brought me an unexpected chuckle and a smile. _

_I gave them twelve months, tops. _

… _**To be continued …**_

_Feedback is good, so please leave a little._

_Annie_


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